


Soulbonds and Mastodons

by abstractconcept



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU, Big Bang, Biting, Bondage, Colorado Avalanche, Hockey, Hockey Big Bang, Ice Age AU, Lions, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Spirit Animals, Worldbuilding, mastodons, pleistocene era AU, plot-related violence, prehistoric animals, wrist-writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 64,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2667677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractconcept/pseuds/abstractconcept
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe, the last ice age never really ended—in fact, in some places, the glaciers have expanded, wiping away entire countries. Colorado is a striking landscape where mammoths and other megafauna roam the plains tundra, while to the west, the cobalt blue mountains spread across the horizon like a mother’s welcoming arms. It’s the perfect environment for hockey, which means Matt Duchene should be having a great time. Unfortunately, when his soulbond forms something goes wrong, and now he doesn’t know whether Gabe Landeskog wants to fuck him . . . or eat him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September 9, 2012: The Quickening

**Author's Note:**

> There is a small amount of Benn/Seguin and a very brief mention of Toews/Kane.  
> When I first signed up for this I didn’t know what to expect, since I’d never done a Big Bang before. It was a lot of fun, and the art! Augustfalcon’s art was better than anything I dreamed and well worth the price of admission! <3 So thank you, Augustfalcon for lending your talent to my fic and making this such a fun experience! And thanks to the mods as well for running this and for their patience.
> 
> Many thanks as well to Augustfalcon and adele_sparks for helping me get this into some kind of shape, and akaparalian for squeeing with me and making this monster such a blast to write! True to form I kept messing with it after they reviewed it, so any further mistakes are my own.
> 
> Note on worldbuilding: this is sort of a modern age/pleistocene era mashup AU. The world’s population is smaller and megafauna have survived, glaciers have advanced in some places, but modern technology is similar. Also, obviously there are soulbonds and spirit animals and wrist writing and id-ficcy tropes for fun, though I play most of it pretty straight. I also did a ton of worldbuilding and backstory that didn't make it into the fic because it didn't serve the story. I did put in links to a couple of worldbuilding things if you're interested, but they're entirely optional. And feel free to ask me if you have any questions. I love questions and thoughts and interaction of any kind! Also, haha, happy belated birthday to Gabe Landeskog!
> 
> Also, since obviously this is a rare pair on a rare team, have a couple of pics just so you know what they look like:  
> 
> 
> Gabe
> 
>  
> 
> Matt

“This is going to be _so_ great.” Gabe paced, looking out over the plains, rubbing his hands together. 

Matt had his doubts. He hoped Landy wouldn’t be too disappointed if it didn’t work.  


Gabe’s Quickening ceremony was being held at the edge of the foothills on a chilly September morning. The tundra rolled out in front of them to the east, the sunrise turning the susurrating grasses gold. At their backs, the foothills were sparsely dotted with scattered juniper trees and pinyons. There was a grove of aspens on a little fold of land to the north, their yellow leaves flickering in the breeze. Matt dragged in a deep breath; it smelled fresh and wild, almost herbaceous. 

There was a herd of mastodons about three miles north. He could feel them, browsing, their calmness, steadily working their way west. He wrapped the knowledge around him like a comfortable blanket, soothing and warm. 

Gabe stood on an outcrop of rock, a big old slab of granite that stuck out of the hillside about fifteen feet. Everyone else was down in the lodge, waiting. Too many people can scare an animal away, even a spirit animal. Besides, there was booze in the lodge. 

“You think it’ll come?” Gabe asked. His blue eyes were eager. 

“You betcha,” Matt lied. Privately he thought that Gabe was too young, and that Sacco was pushing it. But experience had taught him that arguing with Sacco never got him anything. 

Gabe sat down, pulled his knees up to his chest and looked around. A breeze rippled through the tawny grasses, blowing them this way and that. Landy’s smile was confident. “We’re certainly in a good spot for it, right?”

Matt nodded. “Oh, for sure. There’s a box canyon nearby, grasslands, woodlands in the mountains, and there’s a small lake about ten miles east . . . good spread of ecosystems nearby. It’s a good place for a first try.” 

Matt joined Gabe on the outcrop and sat down beside him, glancing around warily, but there was nothing to see yet. Even a successful Quickening could take hours, sometimes even days. He began to wish he’d opted for the lodge and the free beer. 

“Man, I can’t wait.” Gabe was ridiculously upbeat about this, his smile sunny.

“You know, it’s okay if it doesn’t happen today,” Matt told him gently. “It’ll come eventually, and it’s no big deal if it doesn’t happen right away. Just . . . don’t get your hopes up too high, okay?”

Gabe gave him a sidelong look. “It’ll be today,” he asserted. He looked back out over the terrain, his blue eyes determined. “I know it will. I will Quicken today, and it will be just like I imagined . . . and I will be bound forever to a horned gopher, like I always dreamed.”

Matt stared at him. “A _horned gopher?_ ”

Gabe burst into laughter. “Come on, Dutchy, _smile_ ,” he pleaded. He poked Matt in the ribs, making him squirm. “It was a joke. What is this, a funeral? This is a special day. Be happy for me.” 

Matt shook his head, grinning wryly. It was yet another example of why Gabe probably _wouldn’t_ Quicken today—he was way too juvenile.

He and Gabe watched the Caller, down below. He was meditating, a small fire in front of him. One of the rare people who could feel and reach out to any animal, regardless of his own bond, the man would work as an intermediary, attempting to identify Gabe’s animal and bring it close enough to bond. Matt could smell the sweet smoke of the sage, but he couldn’t hear the chanting. The Caller was too far off. He was a professional Spirit Caller, one of the best in the area. [(Note on Callers)](http://the-con-cept.livejournal.com/643991.html) But the Quickening was a mark of physical, spiritual and mental maturity, and it didn’t matter how good the Call was if the time wasn’t right. 

Matt blew out a long breath and rubbed his hands together; it was only September, but the morning air already had a chilly bite to it. There had been frost on the grass when they’d first come out, shimmering under the cold morning sun.

“You want my jacket?”

“No, that’s—” But before Matt could finish his sentence, Gabe was shrugging out of his jacket, and Matt accepted it. It was warm. It smelled like Gabe, too. The guy was notoriously fastidious about his grooming, and Matt wasn’t surprised to find that his jacket carried a hint of some expensive scent. “Thanks.” 

Matt crossed his legs and covertly studied Gabe Landeskog. He was a big, strong guy, blond and good looking in a farm-grown kind of way, but young, inexperienced. It wasn’t impossible—heck, he heard that some people Quickened as young as fifteen—but that was rare. More often it happened early to mid-twenties. And no pro hockey player had ever Quickened _this_ young. “You nervous?” Matt asked. 

Landy gave him what Matt privately thought of as his puppy dog look. “The truth? Yeah. Kind of. We tried it once before, when I played back east. But I didn’t take it very seriously. I just wanted to be able to get into bars.” He looked away. He was under a lot more pressure this time. Matt could see that his jaw was tight. People had high expectations of Gabe Landeskog these days. 

“Really? You tried to Quicken at what, seventeen?” 

“Some guys do Quicken young,” Gabe hurried to point out. “Like Toews and Crosby. Crosby was only eleven days older than I am now.” 

Matt couldn’t help laughing. If Gabe thought he was the second coming of Sidney Crosby, he was out of his mind. “Well, okay then, Crosby. Score us a hundred points a year and I guess you _would_ Quicken pretty early.”

Gabe flushed. “You know what I mean. I did lots of stuff young. The youngest guy to make my Swedish team. The youngest Swedish player to score a goal in the NHL. And just last year I led the team with 52 points and was the youngest guy on the team to ever do that, too, so Quickening is certainly possible.”

Duchene couldn’t help making a face. The franchise record Gabe broke last year had been his own rookie record. And no matter what Gabe said, Matt still didn’t think he would Quicken today. Matt hadn’t even Quickened himself until earlier this year, and he was twenty-one—and even then he’d been considered fairly young. It was still kind of weird, thinking about how last year he was technically a child, and this year he was a man. 

Now that he’d Quickened it opened up a whole new world of possibilities. He’d be allowed in bars, and he could vote or be sent to war, and who knew—he could even develop a soulbond with someone. Well, _theoretically_ , anyway he was mature enough that when he met his soulmate, their name would appear on his wrist, but he wasn’t in any rush. Besides, that might not happen for years, and he was totally okay with that. It sounded a bit overwhelming anyway, that kind of intimacy and responsibility. He wasn’t sure exactly how it worked—his mother had always said you couldn’t read each other’s minds or anything—but when they hurt, you hurt too, even if you were miles away from each other, and you were driven to be near them, and to make their lives easier. Having a soulmate was supposed to be great, but to Matt it just sounded like a lot of work.

“Dutchy? Thanks for waiting with me,” Gabe said quietly, breaking his reverie. “It was cool of you.” Even though the whole thing had been Sacco and Hejduk’s idea, _naturally_ neither one of them had offered to stay.

“No problem.” Matt had done his alone, and it got boring, and anyway, he always tried to look out for his teammates, particularly if they were younger. And he liked Gabe. Besides, he was pretty sure nothing was actually going to happen. He tried to get comfortable on the rock, rolling onto his back. The sky was intensely blue with only a few clouds. Matt smiled. God, he loved Colorado. What beautiful country. He found himself kind of hoping that Gabe’s animal _would_ show, after all. Gabe deserved it. Besides, it would be pretty special to play with a guy who had Quickened younger than Crosby. 

Gabe jiggled one foot, trying to spend nervous energy. “What is your spirit animal?” he asked.

“Mastodon,” Matt told him absently. 

“Oh.” Gabe’s expression said it all. 

Matt laughed. “Look, if you’d told me the day before my Quickening, I probably wouldn’t have been happy about it. Every guy thinks he’s gotta be a killer. But when it happens, it doesn’t even matter. You are what you are, and trust me, it feels right. No regrets, I promise.” Matt knew, anyway, that male mastodons were absolute warriors, and when they fought, it wasn’t for show. They routinely killed each other with blows from their tusks. But it wouldn’t have mattered if Matt had bonded to a field mouse. Once it was done, you understood. Your animal was part of who you were. Maybe the best part. And it _always_ felt right. 

“What is the Quickening like?” Gabe asked. 

Matt thought about his own Quickening and smiled. He wasn’t sure how to explain the experience. He remembered how nervous he was beforehand, though. Everyone told him it would be amazing, and he kept looking around and thinking, _But what if I get a fucking turtle? How is a turtle amazing? I am gonna get so many laughs from the guys if my spirit animal is a turtle._ But once it happened, right away, he stopped worrying that his animal wasn’t exciting or that someone would chirp him about it. Part of being a man was letting stuff like that go. “Stop worrying. It’ll be okay.”

“Is it a rush? Do you feel strong, powerful? I mean . . . you can draw on your spirit animal, right? So like, if you’re a dire wolf, you could call on its speed, its strength?” Gabe shivered with excitement. “Do you think I could get a dire wolf?”

Matt laughed a little. “Good luck getting a dire wolf.” They both knew predator bondings were as rare as actual predators in comparison to prey. “You might get a fox or a stoat or something, but probably not a dire wolf.” He didn’t mention that while you could call on an animal’s strength by going Feral, there were a ton of rules about it and anyway, it was dangerous. You could hurt yourself if you didn’t know what you were doing or couldn’t control it. What you got from your animal was mostly mental, not physical.

“Well, I guess. But I bet it would be a real kick.”

Matt shook his head, barely hearing. It just didn’t work like that. The Quickening wasn’t a rush of excitement. It was more like finding a part of you that was missing and experiencing a deep peace, an understanding of the universe or some shit. Even if you got a fucking turtle. But Gabe wasn’t going to listen to the spiritual mumbo jumbo. He was just a kid. He didn’t get it. “It’s not like that.” 

Gabe gave Matt a wink. “Come on, Dutchy. Wasn’t your Quickening totally mind-blowing?”

Matt laughed. “Yeah, it was a real heart-stopping thrill to develop a deep spiritual bond with what you basically might call a hairy elephant,” he joked.

“Hmm.” Gabe gazed out at the plains, his expression worried. 

“But it was good,” Matt hastened to add. 

Gabe didn’t seem comforted. He sat up straighter, looking tense. 

“Landy, it’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It—”

“ _Shhhhh_ , Dutchy,” Gabe snapped, not even sparing him a glance. 

Matt went still and then frantically twisted, rolling over onto his stomach so he could see where Gabe was looking. It was the most dangerous part of a Quickening; anyone who got between a spirit animal and an Unquickened man risked his life. Gabe clamped one of his big hands down on Matt’s shoulder, pinning him to the rock. “Don’t move,” he breathed. “Stay here.”

Matt couldn’t see the animal. The grasses were high; he could see a ripple though, and Gabe could obviously feel it. And the Caller was silent and cautious, carefully sidling around to keep the fire between himself and the animal. 

The air was suddenly leaden, heavy, like they were expecting a thunderstorm. Gabe’s breath had become shallow. 

“Don’t be scared,” Matt whispered. “Don’t be scared. If you can’t control it, we’ll both be in trouble. You have to take charge. You gotta master this, okay? You got this.” 

Gabe nodded, but he was very pale. He got up slowly and began to make his way down the hill, skidding a little where the dirt was loose. Matt still couldn’t see what the animal was. It had come from the tundra though, not from the mountains. Which didn’t tell him much—the animal life out on the plains tundra was even more varied than in the African savannah. It could be anything. And it was big, by the way it pushed the grasses aside. Probably wasn’t a hare, then, which made things a little more intriguing; almost a full thirty percent of the population bonded to hares or other small animals. 

Matt felt a thrill. Maybe it would be a bison or a musk ox, or something even more exciting.

Gabe moved with caution, in a loose-kneed kind of way, looking warily toward the edge of the grasses. After a moment he knelt like he’d been shown by the Caller. Matt sucked in a breath. _Holy shit_. He really hadn’t believed it would happen. Gabe reached out and an enormous creature of some kind burst out of the grasses and loomed over him. 

What happened next Matt was never able to quite explain. At the same time Gabe began to bond with the animal, something came over Matt.

It wasn’t a peaceful feeling, like his Quickening had been. It was something new. And crazy. For starters, he had an erection, which he was pretty sure was completely inappropriate, given the circumstances. And his palms were sweaty and the whole world was a dazzling array of color and emotion and song. Everything was beautiful confusion. Later he tried to describe it, but he could never quite put it into words. The closest he got was, ‘It was as if I was looking out through a mind filled with stained glass windows and sun streaming into my head. But at the same time, it felt really . . . I mean, it didn’t feel weird. It felt kind of like coming home. Not home from work or home from the grocery store—like coming back to your childhood home to find your mom waiting for you with a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup. Real home.’

And then, without even knowing how he’d got there, he found himself at Gabe’s feet. There was dirt on his hands and a rip in the knee of his jeans, like he’d run straight down to be near him and ended up falling once or twice. He stared down at his own dirty hands, uncomprehending.

How the hell did he get there? What was going on? Matt was dazed. But he felt good. Really, weirdly good, like he’d just scored the biggest fucking goal of his life. Like he was about to hoist the Stanley Cup. He’d never felt so crazy-good in his life. 

There was a sudden movement to his right.

Matt blinked. _Predator!_ his brain suddenly screamed in warning. The animal made for him, but Gabe stepped in front of him and it fell back, confused. Matt stared at it, his jaw dropping. It wasn’t a bison or even a dire wolf. It was an American lion. _The biggest type of lion that ever walked the earth_ , he thought in awe. And this one was particularly enormous—it looked like it was almost as tall as Gabe. Of course, Matt wasn’t used to standing a foot away from them. Maybe that made it seem bigger. Even Gabe, who’d been so excited to get a ‘cool’ animal, looked overwhelmed. 

Instinctively, Matt edged in front of Gabe, arms outstretched, to protect him. He heard Gabe give a soft, almost hysterical laugh. “Dutchy . . . it’s not a danger to _me_.” 

Matt abruptly remembered that a no one was supposed to come between a man and his spirit animal. “Oh,” he said stupidly. He let Gabe gently push him back, still staring, wide-eyed, at the enormous cat. It was paler than any lion he ever heard of, nearly white, and its eyes weren’t the usual tawny gold, but vivid blue, just like Gabe’s. Which reminded him—Matt looked up at Gabe, to ask what was happening—as if Gabe knew why Matt would suddenly feel the wild fucking urge to fling himself at Gabe’s feet.

But Gabe looked down at him with the same expression the lion had, like he could eat Matt alive. They stayed there looking at each other, bodies tense, the air crackling between them. Matt had never looked at Gabe before, never really looked at him, he couldn’t have. Gabe hadn’t been this gorgeous yesterday, had he? Matt had always known that Gabe was a pretty good-looking guy, but he’d never really thought about it. Suddenly Gabe seemed so perfect and beautiful and utterly amazing that Matt was left breathless. He shook his head hard. What the _hell_ was happening to him? 

The lion lunged, and Gabe knocked him back, staring it down. It seemed restless—unsure or something. So did Gabe, for that matter, his shoulders stiff with tension. Something was wrong. The lion’s attention seemed torn between Gabe and Matt.

“What the heck’s happening?” Matt asked in a quavering voice. The lion paced beside them. Matt could sense the strength of the creature, the incredible power, and behind that, a _hunger_ , an overwhelming _need._ Being so close to it he felt the terror rise up like bile, and again the cat looked at him. It went for him again, and again Gabe had to ward it off. It backed away, finally fading back into the grass, looking frustrated. Matt realized his heart was hammering in his chest. 

Gabe looked at him. “You’re afraid,” he said. It was not a question. “Don’t be.” He reached out and touched Matt’s face, tilting his chin up. And as Gabe’s large hand reached out, Matt saw it—right there on Gabe’s wrist. His own name, glowing gold. Matt took a deep breath or two, but he still felt overstimulated and sort of off. “Matt,” Gabe said. His eyes were full of light, like the hallelujah chorus was ringing in his head. Matt could relate, he realized with a sinking feeling. _Oh, no._ Gabe helped him to his feet. “Matty.” He shook his head. His grin lit up Matt’s whole world. “I—I think we’re—”

“I have _never_ seen anyone behave so inappropriately during a sacred ceremony,” the Caller interrupted. He stormed over, face furious. “You could have been killed!”

“I’m sorry,” Matt mumbled. He still felt strange. And Gabe. Gabe was his—

“I will have to report this to your coach,” the Caller told him. “This will have to go on the records.”

“But you don’t understand,” Gabe told him earnestly, standing behind Matt and putting a hand on his shoulder. “He had to. He did it because we’re—”

Matt elbowed him in the stomach. “I’m really sorry. I guess I got scared for Gabe.”

“Mr. Landeskog handled his bonding well. He was never in any danger.”

“I don’t know about that,” Gabe said, and Matt looked over to see him frowning. Gabe was realizing the same thing Matt had—something had gone wrong. 

“Don’t be ridiculous; you did well. You realize this is quite a coup, don’t you? I’ve been Calling nearly thirty years now, and this is the first lion I’ve seen. You must have great inner strength.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” Gabe replied with a crooked smile, shifting from one foot to the other and ducking his head. 

“Tomorrow you will leave for a week’s stay at the WCCS—the Wild Carnivore Conservation Site. You are fortunate; the foundation is located only a couple of hours from here. There you will be trained to work with lions and learn the challenges they face. WCCS will be thrilled to have you. I hope you will represent your team with dignity and maturity.” 

Gabe and Matt shared a look. 

“Follow me and we will conclude the ceremony,” the Caller told Gabe, leading the way back to the fire, where he would end his fast with a meal he’d specially chosen—strawberry stuffed French toast, bacon, eggs and some kind of crazy foreign fish paste on toast—and where the Caller would do the ceremonial sealing of the bond. Gabe hesitated to follow, looking questioningly at Matt. 

Matt shook his head. “Just . . . don’t say anything right now, okay?” he told him in an undertone. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Gabe still looked reluctant, but followed the Caller anyway, tugging his sleeve down to hide the writing. When he got far enough away it would fade so that it would be unnoticeable unless you were looking for it. For now, Matt hoped he had the sense to keep it covered up. 

“. . . and from this day, you will breathe as the earth breathes, bound to the will of nature. Never will you disrupt the natural balance, for the fate of the lion shall be also your fate . . .”

Matt heard the Caller chanting the closing song, but was too dazed to take in the words. He tugged up the cuff of Gabe’s jacket and saw the name written there, like molten gold inked into his skin; _Gabriel Ingemar John Landeskog._ He quickly yanked the sleeve back down so he wouldn’t have to look at it. It just looked so . . . so _permanent._ He began to tramp back to the lodge, where he would tell his teammates and coach that the Quickening was a success. And at least he’d be able to have his own breakfast. Maybe on a full stomach things would make more sense and his brain would start working again. 

Right now, he only had one thing playing through his head over and over: _Holy shit._

Gabriel Landeskog had just become the youngest pro hockey player in history to Quicken. 

He’d bonded to an _apex predator,_ which was mind-blowing. To a lion. A fucking _lion._ Matt had stood right there between them and looked it in the eye. Holy hell, it would have killed him had Gabe not been there. Matt shuddered. He’d seen the hunger in its face. He was going to have _nightmares_ about it.

Furthermore, Gabe Landeskog was his motherfucking _soulmate._ Gabe Landeskog, rookie of the year, number two draft pick, Swedish supermodel. On top of that, Gabe’s spirit animal was an apex predator, and Matt’s was prey, and Matt had never, ever heard of that happening, but they were soulmates anyway.

And above all else, Matt knew, right in his gut, that Gabe couldn’t control the lion the way he was supposed to. He shivered hard and hugged himself, a chill running up his spine in spite of Gabe’s jacket. Something had gone wrong. Big time.

_Holy shit._

oOoOoOo

Matt paced outside the door to Sacco’s office, rehearsing what he was going to say. The Family Sports Biodome was crowded; Mighty Mites classes were today. There were lots of kids running around, in gear and out of gear and looking for their gear. And yelling. Yelling a lot. Matt tried to keep his temper in check; usually he loved kids, but right now he couldn’t hear himself think.

He’d have to be quick and to the point. Sacco didn’t usually listen to him. He’d hesitated about even coming forward, but it was serious. If Gabe couldn’t control the lion, it would have implications for the whole team. Whatever he thought about Gabe and spirit animals and soulmates and all that was beside the point; he was _not_ going to let it fuck up the season. Besides, Gabe could get hurt.

Anyway, this whole thing was beyond him. Gabe had been gone for a few days, and Matt could _feel_ his anxiety. It was like walking around with an electric t-shirt underneath his skin. 

Something just plain wasn’t right. And it was fucking Matt up, too. He was dreaming about lions and waking up with night terrors. Matt had been right from the beginning—Gabe wasn’t ready to mess around with spirit animals and soulmates. And Matt didn’t know how to go about fixing things, but surely Sacco would know where to start. He was supposed to be in charge, right? He was the coach. The whole thing was his idea. So it should be his responsibility, too.

He should start off by talking about how Gabe couldn’t make the lion back off. That was proof, right? It was a fact, something objective, so it wouldn’t sound like Matt resented the fact that Gabe had been named team captain. So, right. The lion. Matt decided to practice his approach. “Sir, I think we have a problem. I witnessed—”

“I can’t find my gloves,” a pitiful voice said. 

Matt blinked in surprise and looked down at the tiny hockey player who barely came up past his knee. Matt guessed the kid was four or five. For just a second he was tempted to tell the boy he was busy, but then he remembered something his dad always told him about his responsibility to young fans: _Matt,_ he used to say, _try to remember that hockey players aren’t born to play hockey. They aren’t bred to play hockey. They’re **inspired** to play hockey. That’s how hockey players are made._

So Matt shelved his thoughts about Gabe and knelt down. “Have you looked everywhere?” he asked seriously.

The elfish, tear-streaked face nodded. 

“Did you look in your bag?”

Another nod.

“Did you look under the bench?”

Another nod.

“Did you check the moon?”

Big blue eyes blinked at him uncertainly. 

“Did you check to see if maybe your coach ate them?”

This drew a giggle. “No, silly. She couldn’t eat my _gloves_. Gloves aren’t food!” 

“Are you sure? Because _my_ coach uses hockey sticks for toothpicks.” Encouraged by the shriek of laughter this image brought, Matt elaborated. “My coach munches on glaciers and chews them down to ice cubes. My coach gnaws on steel beams and spits out nails. My coach eats hockey players for breakfast.”

There was a cough and Matt sort of jolted to his feet, surprised. He turned to see Joe Sacco standing in the doorway. He glanced back to the kid, but he was gone—he must have sensed trouble and run off. Matt couldn’t blame him. He wiped his palms on his jeans. “Oh! Uh, hey. Thanks for seeing me,” he said, taking off his ball cap and twisting it in his hands. 

Sacco’s smile was brief and sour. “I think we have some things to discuss.”

Matt followed him into the office. The coach gestured to the seat across from his desk, and Matt nervously settled into it. “I’m really sorry about this, but I—”

“Well, that’s a good start. You damn well ought to be sorry.” Joe Sacco pointed an angry finger at him and Matt stared at in surprise. 

“Uh. I’m sorry?” Matt repeated, stunned. He was pretty much used to the third degree with Sacco, but what had he done to deserve it this time?

“You know, I’ve struggled to deal with your immaturity on a daily basis for some time now. I’ve given you plenty of opportunities to show me that you’re ready for the big leagues, and you’ve been a major disappointment, Matt, I won’t lie to you. A major disappointment.”

Matt felt heat flood his face, his ears buzzing as the blood rushed to his head. He was humiliated and furious. He could feel his mouth tighten. “I’m sorry you feel that way, sir,” he said in a clipped voice. “But it’s important that you know—”

“What I _know_ is that you embarrassed your organization in front of one of the very best Spirit Callers in the Rocky Mountain area,” Sacco interrupted. “What the hell were you thinking, running out in front of Gabe like that? You could have gotten yourself killed! Worse, you could have gotten _Gabe_ killed.”

Matt tried to take steady breaths. “I did it because something went wrong. I mean, I didn’t do it because of that—I mean, when I got down there I realized something had gone wrong.” He really didn’t want to go into the soulbond thing, not right now, and not with Sacco. That could be a private thing, if it had to be a thing at all. He rubbed his wrist unconsciously. 

“You’re right, something went wrong.” Sacco leaned forward across his desk, face red. “ _You_ went wrong. _Again._ I’m sick and tired of having to make excuses for you, do you understand that?”

Matt’s stomach lurched. This always happened with Sacco. No matter how calmly Matt tried to state his position, the man managed to turn it around on him. He always got under Matt’s skin. “Sir, I’m trying to tell you that something bad happened with Gabe. He wasn’t ready. The bond got messed up. I could _feel it._ He can’t control it.”

Now Sacco looked downright furious. “Gabe did just fine out there—don’t try to tell me he didn’t.”

“But I could _feel—”_

“Are you telling me your feelings are superior to that of a seasoned and well-respected Spirit Caller? Are you seriously suggesting that? You think you know better?”

Matt clamped his mouth shut. “No, sir,” he said, jaw tight. 

“You listen to me, Duchene; the only person whose _control_ you should worry about is your own. Gabe is only nineteen and he’s worlds ahead of you on the maturity scale. That’s why we named him captain. Milan Hejduk handpicked him to succeed him, you do know that, right? He could see the leader Gabe is going to become. I don’t worry about Gabe. He has it together. What I worry about is _you._ You seemed like you had such potential coming into this league, but time and again you show me that you’re a fuckup. I give you a chance out on the ice and what do I get? A turnover, a lazy play, poor defense. I allow you to supervise Gabe’s Quickening, and you fucking throw yourself between him and a goddamn lion. How stupid do you have to be to jump out in front of a lion?”

Matt stared at his hands, jaw clenching and unclenching. “I’m _not stupid,_ ” he ground out. “And I know I need to work on my game, and I will. But—it’s—it’s just—you don’t have a choice—when it happens—S-soulmates can just—” he spluttered, too upset to be coherent. 

“Soulmates?” Sacco repeated scornfully. “ _Soul_ mates? Sure, tell me another one. Are you telling me you almost fucked up the Quickening of one of the best new talents in the league because you had a hard-on for some girl?” Matt couldn’t even bring himself to say anything. If he even told the truth, it would just get thrown back as Matt having a hard-on for some guy, with the soulbond being all in his head. “Look, Duchene, get your head out of your ass. I don’t care about your soulmate or your spirit animal or your _feeling_ that something is wrong. I care about your _hockey skills._ I care about _character._ I care about leadership, and _respect,_ and your ability to _do your damn job._ I don’t want to hear another word about Gabe Landeskog or your nebulous feelings about his spirit animal. I want you to train hard, and I want you to shape up defensively, and I want you to follow orders, like a fucking soldier, you understand? That’s what you get paid for. You understand? Answer me, Duchene. _Do you understand?_ ”

Matt swallowed hard. To his humiliation, his eyes were getting swimmy. He was so _angry_ and _frustrated_. 

“ _Do you understand?_ ”

“Yeah,” he grunted, refusing to look up. He wasn’t going to give Sacco the satisfaction. 

“If I hear you bringing this crap up again, I’m going to fucking trade you.”

Matt sucked in a breath. It wasn’t fair. He’d worked hard for his team. The Avs were his dream—his reason for living! He didn’t have a great season last year, but he’d dealt with a lot of injuries, too. He was still determined, and he knew he could really do amazing things for the team if only given the chance. “Fine,” he ground out. “I won’t bring it up again. I promise.” 

“Fine. Then get out of my office,” the coach said when it became apparent that Matt wasn’t going to say anything else. 

Matt bolted, head down like a charging bull. He should have known better than to try to confide in Sacco about something like this. Well, fuck it. Fuck the whole thing. Gabe wasn’t his fucking problem anyway, and neither were lions. He would just keep his fucking head down and do what he came here to do. 

He’d play hockey. Everything else was somebody else’s problem.

oOoOoOo

Of course, it wasn’t that easy, and technically, it wasn’t even true. Gabe _was_ his problem. He _had_ to be, due to the whole lousy soulmate thing. Which was why he called the guy up the first night he was due back from the WCCS and asked him over to talk.

Gabe showed up after nine, and Matt let him in. His usually perfect hair was mussed and he was dressed for a night on the town. “This is your place?” He followed Matt down the stairs, looking around. Paisley met him at the door and bounded around his feet, looking pleased to see him, like he knew Gabe was important now. 

“Yeah. This is my place. Nothing special about it.” It was like most others in the neighborhood—like most on the plains, for that matter. It was built to withstand the harsh climate: it was compact with thick walls and set into the earth on one end, with only a few deep-set windows, and several big fireplaces and skylights. Matt led Gabe to the couch and gestured awkwardly for him to take a seat. Gabe’s eyes followed his hand, lingering on the shining writing that Matt hadn’t bothered to cover up. It took a lot of willpower not to reflexively cover it with his other hand, but what was the point? They both knew the score.

Matt bit his lip. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act around Gabe anymore. “You want a beer or something?”

“No. Thanks.” Gabe sat on the sofa and looked up, gazing out at the stars through the skylight. “This is a nice place. I could get used to this.” He flashed Matt a smile, and Matt flushed. Gabe probably didn’t even mean it like that; last year he’d lived with a vet, like all rookies. He probably just liked the idea of having a bigger place and room to himself. He was not suggesting Matt invite him to move in.

“I thought you’d get here earlier,” Matt mumbled, sitting at the edge of the sofa, as far from Gabe as he could.

Gabe gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry; Hedgy and I were out celebrating when you called.”

Matt stared at him. He felt a flare of anger. “Celebrating _what?_ The fact that you’re an incompetent idiot?” Gabe looked wounded. Heck, he _felt_ wounded, and Matt flinched. “Look, you know something is screwed up. I know you felt it too. You’re _not in control,_ Gabe. Something’s wrong.”

Gabe looked away, his face unreadable. “You don’t understand. It’s different for people who bond to big cats. Sometimes it can take time, that’s all.”

“You don’t really believe that.” Matt knew he didn’t. It was an unpleasant realization; no matter what Gabe’s face said, his feelings were unsettled. Was it the same in reverse? How would Matt be able to stand being around someone he couldn’t lie to? Not that he was a habitual liar; it just left Matt feeling exposed.

Either way, Gabe didn’t answer. 

Matt felt a slow burn of anger and tried to push it away. Fuck him, then. And fuck Sacco, too. Fuck them both for this whole bullshit situation. It wasn’t like it was Matt’s fault. Matt was sick of giving so much and getting so little. He’d cut off his left arm for the team if they asked him. He loved it that much. That was who he was. And how did they thank him for that? For stepping up and being the guy, every time he could? He hadn’t even been _considered_ for captain. Why the fuck should he work his ass off to fix something no one else would even admit to being broken?

“Fine. It’s none of my business. I didn’t call you here to talk about that. I wanted talk about—” Matt had to stop and clear his throat. Even thinking about it made him sort of nervous. “We need to talk about us. And the, um, soulmate thing.”

Gabe lit up, throwing Matt’s feelings down a different path just like a railroad switch, and for a moment Matt let himself float on the high of Gabe’s bliss. 

Gabe really was gorgeous, he had to admit. And Sacco wasn’t really his fault. Gabe was funny and generous, and he had this warm, open personality that made you want to be near him. But even so, Matt had never seen himself with another guy. And with the team the way it was, it would make things uncomfortable and complicated. 

Matt took a deep breath. “I just—I think we should wait it out.” Gabe looked—and felt—blank. “We don’t have to do the ceremony,” Matt continued carefully. “We don’t _have_ to be together, you know?” Matt looked at his hands. “I was reading a magazine the other day and it said that in spite of the advancement of the glaciers the world population is growing again. There are almost a billion other people in the world, Gabe. If we don’t do the ceremony we’ll almost certainly have another chance.” Everyone knew if you put off the sealing ceremony the bond would fade and you would eventually find someone else . . . probably. Not always, but often. There was usually more than one person out there who would be right for you. Heck, back in the day, as soon as rich kids Quickened, they were sent off by their parents on a ‘grand tour’ of Europe in hopes they would meet a suitable Mate. You didn’t want them bonding with just _anyone._

Gabe just looked at him. “You don’t want to do the ceremony?” His face was still blank, but his feelings were in turmoil. “I . . . I thought we would certainly be compatible,” he pointed out. He swallowed hard. Matt could sort of feel him gather himself, steel himself. He ticked some points off on his fingers. “We have so much in common. I will always understand about the hockey. No one will understand about it like I do. And the team. We are both competitors, always willing to give everything we have. Besides that, we’re both bruds,” Gabe continued, and Matt felt himself redden. 

“I don’t like that word. I’m a Canadian, anyway. There’s still a Canada left, okay?” Brud was the bastardized form of _бруд_ —the Ukrainian word for dirt. It was what they’d called the refugees—a lot of Swedish, Norwegian and Finnish evacuees had ended up there, as well as Russia and America. From there it had become an insulting slur for anyone whose country had been wiped away, covered by ice. Sweden had disappeared a hundred years ago, and so had the town Matt’s family was from, but not all of Canada was gone. Not yet. So he wasn’t a brud, not really, in any case. Eventually the refugees started to reclaim the word, but it still made Matt’s guts twist.

“Sorry,” Gabe told him. “I guess that’s true. You can at least go to, like, Quebec or whatever if you want to. I mean, if I want to visit Sweden, the closest I can come is Ikea.” The iconic shops functioned not only as home goods stores, but as embassies where Swedes could always find protection on foreign soil, as well as an important economic safety net, raising money for the struggling refugees. “But you . . . you understand what it’s like.” That was true enough. Matt had been told stories by his grandparents and longed to see a Haliburton that no longer existed, but might again someday. He knew he’d return if and when that was possible. “And we’re in a good position to spend time together and support each other. Many soulmates are not that lucky, and have to choose between painful distance from their soulmate or their careers. And—and—we certainly get along together,” Gabe said. “I . . . I really think . . . I mean, you’re sort of—I—uh—”

Landy was starting to blush. Matt stared, fascinated. Gabe Landeskog had never blushed in front of him before, not even as a rookie. Nobody had composure like he did. Even when he did something monumentally silly, he just laughed it off. Matt really envied that. He was always suave as anything. Now he was looking at Matt, all shy and squirmy and red, and _holy shit,_ that was really hot.

Gabe Landeskog was the handsomest guy Matt had ever met, like, there were jokes about how he was Prince Charming handsome, and here he was, making puppy eyes at Matt. It was surreal.  


“Gabe—Landy— that’s just the soulmate thing talking,” he said. 

Gabe smiled. “So what?”

Matt turned his head. “So it will go away,” he explained as calmly as he could, “if we let it.” He took a deep breath and recited what he learned by rote all the way back in grade school. “The initial manifestation of attraction during the first stage is an opportunity, not a punishment or a demand. It isn’t compulsory that you act on it.” Matt felt a weird surge of anger come from Gabe’s direction and he looked up in surprise. 

Gabe’s lips were thin. “That was what they used to tell gay kids,” he pointed out. “It was . . . it was a really homophobic way of trying to get kids to hold off on doing the bridging ceremony until they found someone more suitable. Someone of the opposite sex. Is that what you’re saying? Is that what you want?”

Matt felt his face grow warm. “No. I mean, I guess I’d be more comfortable with a girl, but—look, you take it as homophobic if you want, but I think it’s just good sense. It’s short-sighted to make a lifetime commitment to someone you’ve just met.”

“But Matt,” Gabe leaned toward him with a gentle smile, “we didn’t just meet,” he pointed out in a soft voice.

“That’s true,” Matt admitted slowly. “What are you saying? That you _want_ to do this? That you want to be my, uh . . . Mate?”

Gabe smiled a sort of dreamy smile at him. _Holy shit._ “I think we should certainly consider it,” Gabe told him in this hoarse voice that made Matt squirm. _Holy shit._

“Oh.” Matt looked down. He hadn’t expected that. Even though Gabe had looked at him the other day like the newly risen Gretzky, he’d figured the guy had plenty of time to come to his senses while he was off learning about lions. Matt had pretty much come to the point where he was so used to being considered a useless screw-up that he hadn’t even considered the idea that Landy might like the idea of being his soulmate. 

“Anyway, if we choose not to do the ceremony, it could take years to go away. And . . . I really like you, Dutchy,” Gabe said in a soft voice. Matt felt a tentative touch on his arm. 

_Holy shit._

Matt let out a shaky breath. “There are still good reasons to wait,” he managed to say. “I mean. Like . . . the lion thing. That’s a real concern, Landy. I’m worried about you.” To his surprise he realized it was true. His own spirit bonding had been such a nice, quiet, introspective experience. He’d spent the following week in a blissful sort of daze, communing with his mastodons, feeling warm and welcome among them. It was a spiritual experience. It was _literally_ a spiritual experience, and he didn’t think Gabe got that at all. Gabe had felt nothing but strung-out and worried all week, and Matt was in a position to know. 

Gabe looked abashed. “I know. I mean, I’m worried, too,” he admitted. 

Matt buried his face in his hands. “I knew you were too damn young,” he said, voice muffled. “I knew I shouldn’t have let them push you into it. I should’ve stepped in. It’s my fault. I didn’t—I didn’t put my foot down. I didn’t protect you.”

“But I wanted it, too,” Gabe reminded him. He scooted closer. “And even if it’s not perfect, I certainly don’t regret anything.”

Matt looked up, bristling. “How can you say that?”

“What if I had waited a year? What if I had waited ten years?” Gabe’s big blue eyes were sincere. “What if one of us got traded first, or injured, or sent to a farm team or something? Dutchy . . . to me it was so great, because you were right there for me. Like it was destiny. You were already there. Just like you have been there for me from the start.”

Feeling embarrassed, Matt looked away. “Well, yeah, but I wasn’t _coming on to you_ or anything. That was just looking out for you, the way some of the guys looked out for me when I first got here. It’s tough to learn the ropes, that’s all. It wasn’t like I followed you around in the locker room making up sonnets about your hair or anything like that.”

“You should. My hair _is_ pretty great.” Matt looked up quickly to see the laughter in Landy’s eyes. “You were my friend. And you are a good guy. Maybe the soulmate thing just made that more obvious to me.”

“Yeah, right,” Matt replied gruffly, looking away so Gabe wouldn’t know he was secretly pleased. 

After a moment he felt something rubbing against his shoulder and glanced down to find Gabe leaning over, nuzzling him with his chin, grinning up at him slyly. “Come on,” he said, kissing Matt’s shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend anything with me.”

_Oh, right._ Matt felt chagrinned. The bond. He wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings any more than Gabe could. Which meant . . . which meant . . . Matt flushed unhappily, trying to cross his legs. Oh, God. Gabe was already the most confident guy Matt ever met. If he knew how much he could turn Matt on, he was going to become downright insufferable. 

Matt felt him chuckle against his shoulder. “If you want to see if we’re compatible, I’m okay with that,” Gabe told him in a husky voice. He shifted his weight, slinking over to Matt’s side of the sofa. He drew in a deep breath, skimming his face up Matt’s neck like he was drinking in his scent. “We can take our time,” he whispered. “Just give me a chance. I want to please you. You are my Mate.”

_Holy shit._ Matt tried to sing the first couple of verses of _O Canada_ in his head, but it didn’t have any effect on the erection he was quickly developing, not with Gabe’s warm breath against his throat. 

“Gabe . . .” he murmured. He meant it as a _stop that,_ but it came out like a _yes, please_ in every possible way. He was beginning to feel out of control. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. Sure, it was hot, and sure, it was Landy, but it was dangerous, too, what with the lion out there and the fact that Gabe was so into this that he seemed to have lost all common sense. And he was a guy. Matt would like to be open-minded, but if he was being perfectly honest, the sudden desire for another dude really freaked him out. Then again, he liked Landy—he even trusted him. He was a good guy, a natural leader. It felt _right_ to let him take control. Matt let his head fall back, exposing his throat. He felt Gabe’s fingers playing over his body, hungry hands running up and down his torso. Gabe kissed his way up and down Matt’s throat, nipping the tender skin there, making soft snuffling noises. 

Matt stared up at the bright stars through half-closed, hazy eyes. This was crazy. This wasn’t how his life was supposed to go. Was it? 

“Dutchy,” Gabe huffed against the shell of his ear. 

_Oh, God._ Matt couldn’t help it. He wanted this. To hell with lions and doubts and control and fears about his sudden switch in sexual tastes. This was Gabe, who could be _his Gabe_ , his own, right to his core, his _Mate_ , and Matt really, really liked the thought of that. Being near Gabe felt like basking in the sun. He reached up and dragged his fingers through Gabe’s hair, resulting in a surge of pleasure that rushed through Gabe only to be echoed by Matt and back again. Gabe kissed him, softly, then deeper, with more urgency, his mouth so different than anything Matt knew, but new and pleasurable in a heart-thundering way.

Matt let Gabe push him back on the couch, their bodies sliding together. Matt was so turned on he couldn’t think. He hadn’t realized it would feel like this, so wild and crazy and good. Gabe rocked against him, growling his name. Gabe was on top of him, and even though a week before last Sunday Matt would never have even imagined it, he couldn’t imagine anything better right now. 

Gabe began kissing his way up and down Matt’s neck. “I love the scent of you,” Gabe rasped against his skin. Matt found himself blushing furiously, but his blood was singing and even though he thought he should tell Gabe to stop, he wasn’t going to do that, because if he did, Gabe might stop.

Matt gave himself over to the experience. He gave up on caring about the lion, about being with a guy, about soulmates and Sacco and the fact that Gabe was on top of him, their bodies moving against each other. He could feel the hardness of Gabe, pressed hard against his thigh, and this aroused an unexpected need deep in Matty’s gut. “More,” he whispered, nuzzling his own face against Gabe’s. 

Gabe grabbed Matt’s hands, pinned them above him, and Matt felt a flare of fear. What did Gabe think he was doing? They rutted against each other, breath coming hot and fast. Gabe reached down with one hand, took Matt’s shirt, and with a sudden yank, Matt heard the fabric tear. Now he felt anxious _and_ pissed off. Gabe was getting out of control. Had he used the lion’s strength? He wasn’t supposed to do that. “Gabe,” he tried to say, but the words came out muffled and ephemeral. “Gabe. Stop. _Gabe._ ” 

Gabe just looked at him, and Matt couldn’t find any . . . any _Gabe_ in his eyes. There was something primal there, something ancient and base and selfish. Something brutal. He could see an animal in those eyes, an animal that wanted to play with him—and then do something much worse. Matt felt a chill flood him.

“Gabe, this is . . . it’s like you’re going Feral,” he said in fear. Feral was bad. Feral was when you tried to draw on your spirit animal—to use its strength or its traits or whatever—and lost control, and let the animal side take you over. 

Movement above caught his eye, and Matt glanced up at the skylight and saw the lion, staring down at them, pacing beside the glass. “ _Gabe!_ ” he shouted. Gabe didn’t even seem to hear. His breath was coming fast and hard against Matt’s neck. His hands tightened on Matt’s arms. They were going to leave bruises. Paisley was barking in alarm and running around the room. “Gabe, for fuck’s sake—” There was a sharp, sudden pain, and Matt reacted immediately. With a strength borne of anger and adrenaline, he heaved Gabe’s weight off, knocking him onto the floor, upsetting a side table. 

Gabe looked up at him with wide, unseeing eyes, pupils dilated, and blood on his mouth. He crouched as if about to spring. Matt lashed out without thinking, punching him in the face, knocking him back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he gasped. 

One of Gabe’s big hands came up to touch his own face, tentatively, fingers exploring the welt that was already starting to rise. He blinked furiously, like he was trying to get his bearings, then looked up at Matt. “What . . .” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then looked at the blood in surprise. Matt clapped his hand over his own neck, where a warm trickle of blood had been flowing, unnoticed. “Oh, shit. Matt. Dutchy. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what—”

There was a trumpeting sound, muffled, and Matt struggled to his feet. There was a mastodon nearby, Matt could feel it. _Oh, shit._ “Dammit. I can’t have—the neighbors are going to call the fucking H.O.A., Gabe, for fuck’s sake—” He ran to the front door and made shooing motions at the large, angry mastodon standing in his yard, its small eyes red with rage. 

“Förbannat!” he heard Gabe say from the doorway, staring at the beast. Matt had to admit it was quite the sight, a large bull mastodon right in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. It shifted its head back and forth, its powerful tusks swiping through the air, ready for an enemy, making agitated noises. The Enclave—the neighborhood where Matt lived—was pretty small and exclusive and backed onto miles of open space that spread out to the west. Most of the time Matt liked that; better than downtown, crowded with a hundred thousand people. But there were drawbacks, too.

Matt approached the animal. “Go on, now. I’m okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry. Get. You can go,” he said to the mastodon, waving it away. It was too late—Steve Bristol, the lawyer next door, was already on his front porch, glaring in the light on the stoop. Matt knew that asshole would be on the phone first thing in the morning. Matt tried to take deep breaths and get his blood pressure under control, so the mastodon wouldn’t get any more distressed. There were already tracks on the lawn and a busted mailbox drooping off its post, held on by a couple of splinters. Fuck. He must have unconsciously called the thing when he was scared. That happened with spirit animals sometimes. Most people were understanding, but Steve was such a fuckhead. Like Steve’s fucking deer weren’t always in Matt’s flowerbed, eating the garden down to nubs. 

“I told you the neighborhood would go down the toilet with hockey players living here,” Matt could hear the guy complaining loudly to his wife. “Fucking Neanderthals, with their oversized trucks and loud parties and mastodons showing up in the middle of the goddamn night. The nouveau riche are all the same. We never should have let him move in here. I told you, Julie, we should have gone ahead with that petition.”

“I know Steve, I know,” Julie was saying, probably more embarrassed by her ass of a husband than the mastodon tromping down the street. “Come inside.”

“Dutchy . . .” Gabe was standing in the doorway, looking like he was going to cry. 

Matt could hear Paisley barking inside, warning of danger.

_Oh, shit, the lion_ , Matt remembered. He ran back up the steps. “Look, it’s up by the skylight. The lion. You must have called it. You have to get rid of it, Gabe. You’re going to get us both in so much fucking trouble.” Matt was really freaked out, now. The H.O.A. was one thing, but calling a predator—that could get you fined or jailed, or even sent off to another country and separated from your animal. It could cause trouble. It could hurt someone, even.

“I didn’t,” Gabe said. “I wasn’t calling it, I swear.”

“Gabe, you—you _don’t have control,_ ” Matt insisted. He frowned. As scared as Matt was, Gabe was in no shape to do this alone. “Come on,” he said, leading the way around the side of house. The house was set into the hill, the slope running right up to the roof. Being set in the earth kept the houses insulated during the long, harsh winters. Matt could see tracks—leading both up to the roof, and back down. He still went up cautiously. There was nothing there. He pressed one hand against his chest, feeling his wild heartbeat. He could see right down into his living room, the couch and the table and everything. A lamp had been knocked over when Gabe got out of control, and a throw pillow was on the floor. The lion had stood right there, separated from him by only a pane of glass. Matt shut his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Dutchy,” Gabe said again. He reached out, but Matt slapped his hand away. 

“We’re not doing this,” he told Gabe. soulmate or no soulmate, he wasn’t crazy. 

“But Dutchy . . .”

“ _No,_ ” Matt told him firmly. “We’re not doing this,” he repeated, sticking a finger right in Gabe Landeskog’s face, “not until _you_ get this under control.”

“ _Matt,_ ” Gabe groaned, grabbing hold of his hand, pointing finger and all. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He gave Matt the most pitiful look. “All I know is I _need_ you.”

Matt wished he had a hockey stick on hand, just so he could break it out of sheer frustration—maybe over Gabe’s thick skull. _Everyone_ needed him. Everyone was always asking for more than he could give. He was so tired, so sick and fucking tired of running around, trying to figure out what everyone wanted from him, and then failing miserably. He used to think he was really something. He used to think he was going to be great. He was going to be drafted by his favorite team, and he’d be the best player, and the whole universe would be just fucking beautiful. He’d Quicken to some great creature, maybe a bear or something, and he’d find his Mate, a supermodel or maybe a female hockey player, someone pretty and clever and amazing. Instead here he was, fucking up his life, sucking at hockey, failing at—at Gabe Landeskog and soulbonds and everything else. 

Matt shook his head and yanked his hand away. “No. You know what? _You’re_ the captain. You figure it out. It’s your problem.” He turned and marched back down the hill and into the house, slamming the door hard behind him. The door was solid oak, but it couldn’t shut out the despair Matt knew was welling up inside of Gabe. Some petty part of him even enjoyed it. See how _he_ liked being the fuckup for once. 

He stood there, in front of the door, staring angrily at his wrist until Gabe’s light faded from the light of a sunny day to the weak flame of a dying candle, until he could hardly see anything at all.

Then the Schadenfreude ebbed away, leaving Matt feeling empty and blank and tired. He went and found himself an old bottle of vodka under the sink. Then he took it to bed with him and drank until he felt blurry and confused instead of empty, and drank some more until he passed out and didn’t feel anything at all.

oOoOoOo

Gabe gave Matt space after that, though he did leave a couple of phone messages asking that Matt reconsider. Matt deleted them. He had other things on his mind; the lockout was official, and Matt would have to decide if he would play elsewhere. Sure, the North American leagues were some of the best, but Europe also had opportunities to offer, especially with the glaciers expanding. Ice meant hockey, and hockey meant big business, and you could find outdoor rinks and sponsors practically everywhere outside the equator.

It was a big decision to make, and Matt wasn’t feeling confident in his decision-making abilities.  


Sunday morning he woke with the feeling that his dreams had been uniformly awful, though he couldn’t remember any of them. Just vague, unsettled feelings, and an impression something had been chasing him. Matt got up late, went and showered, and shaved. 

He studied himself in the mirror as he wiped the shaving cream off. He was shorter than most guys on the team, but built sturdy, with hazel eyes that seemed to scowl an awful lot. Today they seemed more somber, browner. Some days, with some shirts, they were greener. And he’d had a couple of people even tell him that sometimes they looked kind of gold. His hair was curly and brown. Sometimes he cut it real short so he wouldn’t have to try to keep the curls under control. Other times he gelled it, leaving a lock or two loose in front. He liked that because he thought it made him look like Christopher Reeve’s Superman. But no matter how he looked at it, he just couldn’t see himself with Gabe Landeskog. It seemed like a heck of a mismatch. Gabe was blond and effortlessly handsome. Matt just looked like—like a workhorse, maybe. Not ugly, but common and square and plain.

Shaking his head, Matt tossed the washcloth aside and went and forced himself to eat something for breakfast. On impulse, after he’d put his plate in the dishwasher, he went out back and scouted around.

Sure enough, after about fifteen minutes, he found giant paw prints. They didn’t come as close as last time, though, as if the cat had merely ghosted about at the edge of human habitation before vanishing back into the tundra. That didn’t make him feel much better about it, though. God, was it _stalking_ him? Maybe it was because he’d broken things off with Gabe. If Gabe felt like he should be near Matt, maybe the lion felt the same urge. 

The whole thing twisted Matt’s stomach into a knot of sick fear. He’d never heard of a spirit animal doing that before, but then he’d never heard of a nineteen-year-old kid bonding with a lion he couldn’t control, either. Anything could happen. 

Finally Matt made a decision. It was all too much to sort by himself. 

An hour later, he pulled up at Pauly’s dilapidated old cabin listing at the edge of the lake and put the truck in park, but he didn’t see Pauly anywhere. Matt got out of the truck and crunched down the gravel drive. This was Pauly’s summer getaway, a place where the guys could sneak off to for a couple of beers and some fishing.

There were a few peccaries nosing around the front porch, waiting hopefully for handouts. Matt knelt and scratched one on his little furry head and it made little happy noises and rubbed against Matt’s hand, its little pig-like snout snuffling in a pleased sort of way. Pauly’s peccaries were always underfoot when he happened to have a day off. Matt couldn’t imagine surrounding himself with mastodons, but different strokes, he guessed. 

Matt found his teammate behind the cabin, finishing up painting his deck. “Wanna take a break and do some fishing?” Matt asked hopefully. 

“Hell, yes. I’m done here anyway.”

Matt went and got his gear out of the truck while Pauly got his boat ready to go out on the lake. They didn’t even talk until the shine had worn off the morning and they’d each caught a couple of fish. That was just how they were. Pauly always listened, but he didn’t push. 

Finally Matt heaved a sigh. Pauly turned to him with a gap-toothed grin. “That bad, huh?” He searched Matt’s face and his smile went away. “Sacco?”

“Yeah. And other things.” Matt struggled to think of a way to explain things without telling Pauly that Gabe’s Quickening had gone wrong or that he and Gabe had bonded. In the end, he found he couldn’t. “You know that I was at Gabe’s Quickening,” he said. “And . . . uh. It didn’t go as smoothly as I would have liked.”

Pauly looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

“I don’t think he’s got it under control.”

“Yeah, he told me. He’s gonna talk with the WCCS people and they’re gonna keep an eye on things.”

“He told you?”

Pauly looked out over the water serenely, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. “Yeah. He tells me things. I’m a valuable resource to you kids, you know.”

Matt looked at him suspiciously, but he didn’t look back. Did Gabe tell him _everything?_ There was no way to know. And how did he frame the whole thing? “Did Gabe tell you . . .” Matt swallowed hard. “Did Gabe tell you we were soulmates?” He carefully kept his head turned away so Pauly wouldn’t see how red his face was, but even his ears were hot.

“No . . . he left out _that_ interesting little tidbit,” Pauly said, delighted. “Have you, uh—”

“Shut up about it before I kick you right in the walnuts,” Matt snapped. 

Pauly laughed and laughed and laughed. He picked up a beer and went to take a sip, and spilled part of it down his shirt because he was laughing so hard. “Oh, God,” he said. “I wish I’d been there to see it. Oh, shit.” Every time he seemed to get control of himself he’d spasm with laughter again. “Gabe Landeskog, our Swedish Viking captain, and little Matty Duchene, oh, _wow_. Ahahah, I bet your eyes were as big as dinner plates.”

“Shut up, Walnuts,” Matt snarled, mortified. 

“Hahahah, _my_ eyes would have been as dinner plates, that’s for sure. Speaking of big, is he . . .?” Pauly wiggled his eyebrows and Matt flushed again and looked away. “Come on. Compared to the fish. I’d say the fish is a good twelve inches. Come on, Matty, show me on the fish.” He held two hands apart like _this big?_

Matt buried his face in his hands. “Oh, my God, please shut the hell up. I swear, Pauly, I’m going to beat you to death with my rod and dump your body in the lake.”

Pauly was still laughing. “Come on, man, if it _had_ to be a guy, you could do a whole lot worse than Gabe Landeskog. Hell, throw in most of the girls on the planet too and you could _still_ do a whole lot worse than Gabe Landeskog.”

“You like him so much, _you_ date him,” Matt grumbled. 

Stastny wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry man, it’s just . . . poetic. Our two most talented junior players. Oh, God! What did Sacco say?”

“Sacco doesn’t know. We’ve agreed to keep it to ourselves for now.” It occurred to Matt that Gabe had been doing a better job of that than him, even though it was Matt’s idea to keep it quiet.

“Why?”

“For starters, I tried to tell Sacco. He told me to go jump in a lake, basically. And. There are lots of reasons. Like I said, the lion thing and . . . I don’t know. We’re both guys. It was a big time shock. It doesn’t come natural to me. I never thought it’d be another guy, okay? I’m really having a hard time wrapping my head around it. I’ve never been into guys. How would I tell my dad? Can you picture bringing him home to meet your parents?”

“Hell, yeah. I’d show him off like a fucking trophy. Besides, your parents understand about soulmates. It just happens. Don’t be such a pussy.” Pauly finished off his beer and cracked open another one, oblivious to Matt’s distress. Pauly looked haughty. “As a matter of fact, I bet you made the whole thing up. Show me your wrist.”

“What?”

“No, man, you’re just trying to play like you bagged Gabe Landeskog, I bet,” Pauly teased. He grabbed Matt’s arm and made a great show of squinting at his wrist. “Nope, see, I knew it; you’re full of shit. That _clearly_ says _Higgins Frobnitz the Third._ ” 

Matt laughed and tried to take his arm back. He was . . . startled. He really had thought the idea would freak his teammates out. Same sex soulmates weren’t unheard of, but they were uncommon. And not many hockey players had admitted to having them. On the other hand, soulmates were soulmates, and what were you going to do about it? When Toews and Kane had ‘come out,’ the backlash hadn’t been as bad as Matt expected. And he, himself, had always been taught to be respectful of other people, regardless. He just never thought ‘regardless’ would mean _him._

Still, he had to admit Gabe was kind of cute, and the bond they shared sort of made him feel mushy about the whole thing despite himself. It was hard to think clearly about the whole thing when Mother Nature was making your hormones bubble and your head spin. They would be a good match. That’s what soulmates were. A guaranteed helpmeet for life, one who would understand you in a way no other person could. It wasn’t a punishment. That’s what the teachers used to say. It was an opportunity. “He _is_ kind of hot, as far as guys go,” Matt admitted grudgingly, feeling his ears grow warm.

“Hell, yeah.”

Matt sighed. “He’s a nice guy and all, but him and I . . . we wouldn’t exactly make a cute couple. And there are some major obstacles, even if I could see myself . . .” _Sucking his dick, which yeah, I can totally see,_ Matt thought, flushing again, “with him,” he finished lamely. Now that he’d pictured it, he couldn’t unsee it, and the idea of being down on his knees in front of the handsome new team captain made his breath catch and his cock perk up.

“I don’t get you,” Pauly said.

Matt tried to explain without getting into the sex bits. What he wanted to say was that Gabe was seriously fucked in the head and might try to kill him, but he felt like telling Pauly about that might be some kind of betrayal or something. If people found out Gabe couldn’t control the lion, he might lose his job. And the Avs would lose one of their best players—not to mention the scandal. And Sacco would blame him, naturally. Besides, Matt didn’t actually believe Gabe was that dangerous, and he didn’t want to give that impression. Instead he talked about the Quickening and Sacco and Gabe not acting quite right, glossing over some details, and how he and Gabe had had a fight and he’d ended up with a lion on the roof and a mastodon in the garden, but this only seemed to make Pauly laugh more. Eventually, though, the guy got serious.

“So what’s the part that bothers you?” Statsny finally asked.

“All of it,” Matt snapped with a sudden rush of anger. “What do you mean, ‘what part?’ And on top of everything, somehow I’m the one who gets chewed out over it.”

Pauly looked at him with raised eyebrows and didn’t say anything.

Matt let out a long breath and turned back to his own line. “Yeah, I guess that . . . that doesn’t help. The part where I get yelled at for trying to help out. And I’m angry with myself, most of all. I should have stood up to Sacco. If I’d done that in the first place, it wouldn’t be an issue. Why do I let him get to me?” He groaned. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Pauly pointed to the shore. There was a magnificent elk standing there, his antlers stark against the blue sky. He looked at them curiously before ducking his head to drink. “You see him? He’s lucky. He barely remembers yesterday. Animals are like that. They don’t get any fucking existential angst. They don’t hold grudges. They don’t remember the times they fucked up, because hey, they’re alive, and that’s all they want. They can’t hold complicated thoughts. That’s what _we_ get out of the bond. We get a chance to learn how to just put one foot in front of the other, you know?”

Matt had to admit it sounded very restful. And when he was with mastodons, it did feel like that. Calm. Happy. Living here and now and not worrying about anything else. “So you think that’s what I ought to do?”

“Yeah. I think you should pare it all down, one by one, until each problem is a manageable size. You hate Sacco, and I get that—don’t we all—but that, like, kinda seems to be getting mixed up with everything else. Like . . . I mean, don’t shoot or anything, but you seem to be blaming Gabe when I think you’re really pissed at Sacco. I think you ought to break it all down—the lion is one thing. Gabe’s another thing. And Sacco is something else.”

“Huh.” This was enough to chew over for a while, and they fished in silence for another hour as Matt thought. It was true that he hated Sacco, and maybe Gabe shouldn’t have to pay for that. But he couldn’t see how the lion problem was separate from Gabe, no matter how he looked at it. Gabe was the lion. The lion was Gabe. The lion came when Gabe needed it. Gabe attacked Matt when the lion wanted him to. You couldn’t separate the two.

“Have you ever heard of two people who were soulmates like Gabe and I?” he asked. “An apex predator and a prey animal?”

“Well jeez, let me just consult my degree in Transspiritual Soul Biology,” Pauly joked. “Naw, man. Never heard of that happening.” He grinned at Matt. “But I can ask around.”

“Thanks.” They went back to fishing, and Matt felt a little better about the whole thing. At least Pauly listened, unlike Sacco. 

Pauly turned the conversation to the lockout. “You gonna play somewhere else?” he asked.

“Heck yes. Europe, probably. Got a few calls in. You?”

“Maybe. Might be able to get on a team with my brother, and that would be pretty cool.” Pauly’s usually boyish expression turned troubled. “You know . . . I don’t want to be a dick about this, but maybe you should put Europe on a backburner until you figure this shit out with Gabe.”

Matt shrugged uncomfortably. He looked out over the lake, thinking it over. It was a gorgeous afternoon. The sun was casting golden dapples of light through the trees, the winds played through the thick grass at the bank, and the fish were jumping. And off in the distance, the ice-capped Rockies lounged on the horizon like a crowned king surveying his land. Matt worked his jaw, trying to decide how to respond. It was such an ugly insinuation that it just about spoiled the whole day. “I’m a hockey player. I play hockey. What am I if I don’t at least try to get on a team?”

They went back to their lines for a while. Eventually Stastny said, “I just kind of get the feeling you might be trying to run away from this.”

Matt flinched. He carefully kept his face turned away. Why did Pauly have to be so perceptive? Anyway, he wasn’t running. He just needed space.

“Think it over,” Pauly suggested.

“I will,” Matt lied. He’d already made his decision. It would give him everything he wanted, at least for a while. He’d be thousands of miles away from Sacco, which was reason enough to leave the country. And he’d gain himself some distance from Gabe. Physical distance, everyone knew, dulled the edges on sharper feelings. It would get him some breathing room. Maybe he’d think more clearly over there, even ask around to see if anyone else knew anything about predator/prey soulmates. And as for the feelings he had for Gabe, well, he could just decide not to decide, at least for now.

But he didn’t like to admit that none of those reasons, good as they were, made up his mind about leaving. 

He’d play in Europe for sure, but only because in Europe, there weren’t any American lions.


	2. October 18, 2012: Swedes and other Refugees on the Frozen Thames

Matt squinted, gazing out over the rink that had been set up on the frozen Thames. Hockey was growing in Britain, and what better way to make a little money than in an exhibition game or two? So they’d set up a game between the best of the new and fast-growing BNHL and the foundering SHL. Once considered one of the best European leagues with 14 teams, Sweden’s squads had plunged to just three. And it didn’t escape Matt’s notice that despite his desire to escape Gabe and his discomfort at being called a brud, here he was, playing with the best of them for Frölunda HC. 

Matt made a pass to Jari Tolsa, but it was picked off, and he heaved a sigh as he headed back to the bench. He was playing his hardest—he’d got a standing ovation a couple of nights ago, even, and that was great—but a lot of the time the rest of the team didn’t seem to have any heart. Who could blame them? How would he feel, knowing at night he’d go home to a home that wasn’t really home, in some strange country that was at best tolerant, and at worst openly hostile to him? 

The game stopped for a while when a woolly rhinoceros made an appearance, apparently curious about the crowd of people. The security people had their hands full—it didn’t appreciate them getting too close, but it wouldn’t quite go back the way it came, either. Finally an old woman, a retired lawyer, made her way out of the stands to explain to the security people about woolly rhinos. They were her spirit animals, and she instructed the attentive listeners on how to convince it to leave. When the rhino finally trotted away over the ice, the stands erupted in applause.

Matt let his gaze play over the crowded stands erected around them, feeling out of place. He was more than four thousand miles away from home, and it hadn’t made a dent in his problems. Even though there were no lions here, his subconscious was still having a field day, his brain vomiting bad dreams every night. And even awake he found himself twitchy, feeling like he had unfinished business with the animal. And the feelings for Gabe hadn’t stopped either. They’d dulled a little when he first arrived, but never dissipated completely. He _missed_ Gabe. He missed his big, cheesy grin, and his playful nature, his strength. He especially missed the way Gabe seemed to radiate a sense that everything would turn out okay. Matt, by nature, had always had a lot of nervous energy, and being around Gabe seemed to help. And Gabe missed him, and Matt knew it. He could feel it like an ache in his stomach. Lately it had almost been getting worse. Playing in Europe hadn’t been the panacea he’d hoped. 

The guy beside him nudged him. “Wake up.”

“Sorry.” Matt offered an apologetic smile. 

“What is the matter?”

 _I miss my boyfriend even though he tried to rip my throat out with his teeth_ probably wasn’t the right thing to say. “Culture shock,” he said after thinking it over. 

The Swede side-eyed him. “What you got that we don’t got?”

“Mastodons.” The Swede looked puzzled. “You know. Big hairy elephants?” Matt told him. He pantomimed a trunk with his arm.

The guy laughed. “Americans,” he said with a sigh, and hopped out onto the ice for his shift. “Always want big meat.”

Matt opened and shut his mouth. “I’m a Canadian,” he called after the guy, who was out of earshot anyway.

Matt sighed. He had told the guy he missed mastodons. It wasn’t entirely a lie; there weren’t any mastodons in the UK, and it was hard to reach that peaceful, meditative state without being able to feel them nearby.

He felt someone bump his knee and glanced up to see Brendan Bell grinning at him. “I get you, man,” he said in a low voice. Matt looked at him with raised eyebrows. The D-man was a fellow Canadian, a guy who would probably never really make the NHL, but a decent offensive D-guy all the same, and a friendly face for a guy navigating foreign parts. 

“Yeah? What’s your spirit animal?” Matt asked. 

The guy grabbed his water bottle, squinting at the play on the ice. “Thylacoleo carnifex,” he said. 

Matt blinked. “What the heck is a Th . . . whatever carnifex?” 

Bell laughed. “It’s kind of a marsupial lion. Strongest bite of any mammal, retractable claws, semi-opposable thumbs. You only get them in Australia.”

“In _Australia?_ ” Matt echoed. “How does a Canadian randomly end up with an Australian spirit animal?”

“God’s will, or Mother Nature’s, or biology’s, or something, I guess. It was the weirdest fucking thing. One day there I was, signing with the Leafs, everything ahead of me, and then suddenly I get this wild fucking urge to get out of there. I mean, it was like nothing I ever felt. I was, like, in a trance, and I walk right out of the locker room and go out and find a steamer to Australia. Didn’t even pack a toothbrush. Just found the first transport going the direction my heart was headed, I guess.”

Matt stared at him. “Seriously?” 

“Yup.” Bell shook his head. 

“What happened?”

“It was there, waiting for me on the shore. Bonded to it the minute I stepped off the boat. Like, I’m not even kidding, it was _waiting for me_. Scared the hell out of everyone else. People running in every direction, screaming, total panic. Didn’t even need a Caller. ([*Note on Quickening](http://the-con-cept.livejournal.com/644239.html)) The thing just came. Can you imagine stepping off a steamer and seeing that waiting for you?”

“That would scare the hell out of me,” Matt said with perfect honesty. “Holy shit.”

“Well, I wasn’t scared. You know. It’s your animal, and it just feels right. But it was quite the doozy of a surprise,” the guy said, laughing. “A doctor once told me there are a lot of spontaneous bondings like that—more than people realize.” *

Matt bit his lip. “Your . . . uh, wife or whatever. Is she afraid of it?”

Bell’s grin was huge. “She says it’s the ugliest sonofabitch she ever did see. Says the same thing about me, too. I think she’s kidding, but you never can tell.”

Matt forced a laugh. “She sounds tough. Is her spirit animal a Tasmanian devil or something?”

“Nope, she’s a fox, in more ways than one.” _Damn. Not a predator/prey relationship._ Matt had been asking around, but not finding much. Bell was still talking, though. “It works out, too—I mean, they’re not native to Australia and they cause merry hell to the indigenous species, but at least if we move there she won’t feel too weird. I’m hoping to sign on with the AIHL next year. You get me, right? You don’t feel quite right without ‘em around. And it’s a real bonus when you go out camping. I mean, anything’ll kill you out there, anything at all. I feel a whole lot better when I got Jasper around, watching my back.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I get you. I miss Tuesday, the mastodon that came to me during my Quickening. He was a half-grown male, almost too young to have left his mother, but obviously too adventurous to have stayed with her. He’s a character. Got a real sense of humor, you know? He likes to drop pinecones on my head and then look all innocent. He thinks it’s funny. Most people don’t know that mastodons grin, but they can.” 

Most people had a special bond with the embodiment of their first spirit animal, often staying close to that one animal for its entire life.

“Duchene!” Matt jumped about a foot and realized he’d missed the whistle telling him to start his shift. He leapt over the boards, feeling stupid. Jesus, why did he have to be such a screw up?

The moment his skates touched the ice he felt better, and a moment later, Olsen saucered a nice little pass in his direction and he zipped in down low and _bang_ , a quick wrist shot and suddenly, he'd scored. Just like that. Damn. When he was on, he was on. This was what happened without Sacco glaring at him, daring him to make one wrong move.

For just a second, Matt felt elated—he was absolutely overjoyed, and all his issues had been completely wiped from existence. He pumped his fist and was engulfed by his teammates as the triumph reverberated through him. God, it was so nice not to suck. Just for a minute. 

He skated back to the bench and saw a familiar face in the crowd. As he stared, it ducked away.  


Matt returned to the bench, submitting to the pats and praise, his moment of satisfaction turned to ashes in his mouth. 

What the hell was Gabe doing there?

oOoOoOo

Matt half expected Gabe to disappear after the game—he could feel the guy’s embarrassment and guilt at being found out—but the big Swede was right outside the locker room when he came out after showering. Matt was briefly grateful no one could see their wrists, what with the coats. He still felt like it was horribly obvious though, like there was a sign not just on his wrist, but over his head, flashing Gabe’s name, possibly with little hearts fluttering all around it. Matt set his jaw.

Gabe only met his eyes for a moment before looking back down at the floor, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he was thoroughly contrite. Funny, though, he didn’t feel quite so sorry anymore. In fact, his delight and affection sort of hit Matt like a tornado, mixing him all up again. He had to turn his head to hide the grin that found its way onto his face. 

Matt tried to remind himself that Gabe was being a big pest, and that the lion thing wasn’t resolved, and that he’d told the guy to back the heck off and he should have done just that until Matt gave him the go-ahead. Matt scowled at the ground and thought hard about Sacco and soulmates and the lockout and the last bad turnover he made, until he’d worked himself into a good, black place that was just right for dressing someone down.

Gabe smiled sheepishly. “That was a great goal, Dutchy. I’m real proud of you.”

Matt ignored this. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, backing Gabe against the wall. Despite the fact that the guy was taller than Matt, he seemed to shrink down, head ducked, his eyes all big and sad. Of all the expressions Gabe had, Matt thought it was the most appealing—so sweet and gentle and totally innocent, which was way off the mark. 

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not an explanation.” It also wasn’t true, but that was beside the point.

“I missed you.”

Matt felt himself deflate. He slipped an arm around Gabe’s neck and pulled him down into a quick, rough hug. “I missed you, too,” he huffed. “You big, stupid life complication.” 

Gabe absolutely radiated warmth, inside and out, so pleased to be welcomed into Matt’s arms. Being around Gabe was dizzying; his gratification sent Matt’s own mood soaring. It was nice, but frightening as well—it was so, well, _intimate_ that it reminded Matt how little they could hide from one another. 

“I got a job, too. Another Swedish league,” Gabe explained. “Djurgårdens. Not the best of the best, but competitive. Too bad I won’t get to play you.”

Matt pulled back and stared at him. “You can’t do that.” He wasn’t ready yet. He couldn’t handle having Gabe nearby. No wonder he’d been feeling worse recently. He needed a step back. He needed to figure things out. 

Gabe gave him a crooked smile. “I gotta eat too, you know. Besides, weren’t you the one who insisted he wasn’t a br—a refugee? Now look at you. And I’m not supposed to play for my own country just because you got here first?” 

Matt gritted his teeth. “You should be back getting things _sorted out_.”

Gabe looked away, confirming what Matt already guessed—the lion thing was still a problem. “It actually hasn’t been bad lately. I’m doing a lot better. Besides, the foundation says I’ll do better when I have some stability. Hockey is my stability.”

“Why can’t you find your stability somewhere else?” 

Gabe gave him a long-suffering look. “Don’t you think it’s about time we started trying to work through this together? Instead of all alone?”

Matt glared at him. “I’m trying to do my _job,_ Gabe. This is a huge distraction for me.”

“And you think it isn’t a distraction for me?” Gabe replied, getting angry. “You think this is fun for me?”

As Gabe was talking, one of Matt’s teammates walked out of the lockers and nearly bumped into Matt. The guy looked at them both knowingly, grinned, and said something to Gabe in Swedish. Then he winked at Matt adding, “Yah, Dutchy?” It went over Matt’s head—he could say ‘puck’ and ‘head’s up’ and a number of other hockey-related things, but not a whole lot—but Gabe flushed and looked unhappy. Matt didn’t know what Gabe snapped at the guy in response either, but the gist was clear— _get lost, okay?_

Matt’s teammate got offended at that, and his gesture at Gabe was pretty universal.

In moments, Gabe and the other Swede were shouting at each other, Gabe getting louder and louder. He was shouting at the guy, screaming at him, like he could win the argument with volume, if not by reason. Matt grabbed his arm. “What the heck is the matter with you?” Gabe’s whole body was tense, his teeth bared. It was totally out of character—Landy was always so sunny off the ice. Even Matt was more likely to lose his temper. On the ice he was a force, but off he was always a nice guy.

“He should just fuck off,” Gabe snarled. The guy finally walked away, throwing his arms up, and Landy seemed to calm down. “He was just—just getting in my space, that’s all.”

Matt stared at him. Gabe had never been what you might call territorial. He shook his head.

“Look, can’t we discuss this some place more private?” Gabe complained. Then he lit up like a light bulb had gone off over his head. “Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner?” 

The idea didn’t make Matt happy. He wished Gabe would stop trying to—trying to _woo_ him or whatever, and deal with the lion thing. But the alternative was giving the whole team the impression he and Gabe were having a lovers’ quarrel, and that was even worse. 

“Fine, let’s go,” he said. 

They ended up a little pub. Gabe tried to talk Matt into some place nicer, but Matt wanted privacy, not a romantic string quartet in the corner. Anyway, it was good and dark and smelled greasy and delicious. It made Matt want poutine, but they didn’t have any on the menu. He got the chips, but it wasn’t the same.

“You need to sort yourself out before you come over here, trying to win me over,” Matt grumbled over his beer. 

“I’ve made progress, I promise.” Gabe reached over and tried to take his hand, but Matt pushed him away, flushing. Did he have to be so physically affectionate? 

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Right now you really need to dial it down a notch. You’re thinking with your dick,” he said scornfully. 

“I’m not,” Gabe insisted, looking— _feeling_ —sad. 

“You are. You’re so . . . pushy.”

Gabe smiled wryly. “I prefer the term ‘driven,’” he said. “It is usually considered a good trait.”

“Yeah, unless you’re stalking a reluctant lover across another continent,” Matt snapped. 

Gabe looked serious and felt angry. “I wasn’t stalking you. I really did come for the hockey. I like you, and I want to give us a chance, but I’m just here for the same reason you are. I want to play.”

Matt swigged back the rest of his beer. “Fine. So play. But leave me out of it.”

“Matt, you are my _Mate_. I—I was always told, growing up, that this would be a great thing. That you meet this person who is _meant_ for you, and in that is . . . is . . . an implicit promise that this person will always be there for you, and that you will never have to doubt them, and you will have a security and . . . I don’t know.” Gabe slumped in his seat. Matt had never seen him look like this before, sort of small—well, for a given value of small—and heartsick and lost. He mumbled so quietly Matt wasn’t sure he was meant to hear, “You weren’t supposed to _hate_ me.” 

Matt covered his face. Oh, hell, he could feel it, too, the rejection, the _dejection,_ the confusion and sagging self-esteem . . . this was the worst thing Gabe had ever been through. Matt heaved a sigh. He didn’t want to hurt Gabe. He never liked hurting people. “Okay,” he said, dropping his hands. “What can I do? What do you want?” 

This time Gabe didn’t take his hand. He just looked at Matt with those big blue eyes, tired and rather hopeless. “I just wish you would give me a chance to prove to you that I am doing better,” he said. “That we can make this work.”

Something stirred in Matt. Was it pity? Or something else? Dammit, Gabe wasn’t helpless. Last season he’d more than proven that, their bold Captain Viking, out on the ice destroying anything that got in his path. He wasn’t a fucking stray puppy—so why did every part of Matt just want to reach out and pet him and tell him it would be okay? Like he could promise that, anyway.

But he couldn’t ignore it. There was a sort of weird, weak part of him, a tenderness that lurched to the forefront whenever Gabe was hurting. The idea of kissing him and making it better was slowly becoming very appealing, much to his chagrin.

This time, it was Matt who reached out and took Gabe’s hand. “Okay. I’ll give you a chance,” he said, against his better instincts.

Gabe beamed at him, pure Swedish sunshine from a land now swallowed by ice. Matt sighed. Well, maybe that only added some sparkle.

oOoOoOo

Gabe made him wait in the hotel lobby until he could ‘arrange some things.’ Matt wondered if he was actually getting rid of a girl or something. Evidence of a girl, maybe. For all the soulbond bullshit, Matt still didn’t believe for a second that Gabe wasn’t sleeping around. All the most gorgeous women seemed to hang off of him, and he’d never been terribly interested in commitment. And if he couldn’t stay true to a girl, he sure wasn’t going to be faithful to a goofy-looking guy with hockey scars. Not that Matt thought he was _particularly_ hideous or anything, but he’d seen a lot of Gabe’s girls, and they sure didn’t look like him.

But to Matt’s _intense_ embarrassment, when Gabe finally led him up to the room, eyes all earnest and smile eager, it turned out that wasn’t what the guy had been doing at _all._

There were candles everywhere, softly glowing on windowsills and night stands. And there was champagne. And there were—oh God, the cliché—roses. Like, ripped up and dumped on the bed, as if rose petals sticking to your butt when you sat down would be romantic or something.  
And there was Gabe, too, eternally hopeful Gabe, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like a puppy hoping to get a dog treat from its owner. Oh, God. 

Matt could feel himself reddening from mortification right down to his toes. He’d have almost preferred it if Gabe had been getting rid of a girl. 

“I—I just thought. You know. To maybe try to make it special or something,” Gabe explained, echoing his own embarrassment. 

“You are a total doof, you know that, don’t you?” Matt finally said. He didn’t mean to, but even he could hear the affection in his voice, and Gabe perked up. Matt could almost hear a tail going thwap-thwap-thwap with pleasure. Why the guy had bonded to a great cat instead of a big, ungainly dog Matt would never know. 

“You want a drink?” Gabe poured the champagne. “There’s also a big bath in the other room, but . . .” he trailed off as Matt’s embarrassment tripled. “Yeah. I figured that could wait. Sorry.”

Matt shrugged. He went and perched on the edge of the bed, discreetly trying to brush some of the rose petals away. Jesus, what a dork. A charming dork, and it was kind of thoughtful, but still. Matt peeled back his sleeve, just a little, to get a peek. Yup, it was still there, all right, bright as ever with Gabe so close. He tried to look on the bright side—literally. At least if he and Gabe stayed together he’d never stub a toe on the way to the toilet in the dark. He had a built in flashlight. Some bright side.

Gabe came and sat next to him, curled in on himself a little like he was trying not to take up too much room, or maybe trying to seem small and less intimidating and unlikely to attempt any cannibalism in the bedroom. “I guess I got a little overenthusiastic,” he mumbled. 

“It’s okay. It’s just not . . . um . . . very _me_ , I guess,” Matt said as nicely as he could. 

“Yeah, it’s certainly not very hockey.” For just a moment Matt let himself be pleased that the first thing Gabe associated him with was hockey. He liked that. “Maybe I should have got, I don’t know, Forsberg to sign a jersey or stick or something. But that would lack a certain romance, don’t you think?” Gabe was taking this so fucking seriously that Matt couldn’t help smiling. “You’re laughing at me,” Gabe complained, nudging him. 

“No! Well . . . kinda. I’m just trying to picture how this whole thing would have gone if I’d come up here to find you and Peter Forsberg waiting for me in the bedroom with a hockey stick.” Now Gabe was laughing, too. “I mean, I think I woulda been concerned, you know?” It would have probably scared the hell out of him. Forsberg was a great player, but he always looked so intense. He had eyes like a serial killer or something, all cold, somehow totally different from Landy’s always-sympathetic eyes. He and Gabe looked at each other for a long moment and Matt sighed. “How are we gonna do this?”

“I have lube and condoms on the nightstand.”

Matt briefly shut his eyes. “That’s about twelve steps ahead of what I was worried about,” he said. Here he was, wondering if they should start by kissing or even holding hands—how to get from that awkward part at the beginning where they weren’t touching to the probably even _more_ awkward part when they were. Great, now he had a lot of new worries. Gabe sure did go full-steam ahead when he wanted something. 

“Oh. Uh.” Gabe looked attentive. “Okay. Tell me about your concerns and I’ll do my best to, like, alleviate them.”

Matt looked at him, astounded. Gabe was a great captain and here he was, trying to captain Matt in the bedroom, and it didn’t work like that. Matt was willing to do his best to meet him halfway, but if Gabe was going to start saying things like, “You’re doing great, but I need you to give it more intensity,” or, “Hey, we can do this, buddy; just follow my lead,” Matt was going to deck him. What the hell was he supposed to say, anyway? That he didn’t make out with guys on a regular basis and wasn’t sure where to start? That it would feel weird to take the lead because there was something aggressive about it? Oh, God. Even worse, that was sort of true. Even though he had a couple of years on Gabe, he was sort of used to Gabe taking charge. That was the kind of guy Landy was. And Matt wished he would just _do_ something already, without Matt having to prompt him. 

This was completely ridiculous. Why was this so hard? He usually didn’t have a problem being direct. Matt Duchene was a straight shooter, everyone knew that. 

He drank his champagne quickly and set it aside. 

Gabe nudged him. “Look, you gotta talk to me, okay? I might be your Mate, but I can’t read your mind.”

Matt gave him a look of exasperation. “Can’t we just get it over with?” he asked tensely. He was starting to feel really uptight about the whole thing. Why was it that he felt okay with doing it, just not with talking about it? 

Gabe looked sad. “I wish you wouldn’t make it sound like a chore. It kind of hurts my feelings,” he added with raw honesty.

“I _know_ it hurts your feelings!” Matt exploded. “You think I don’t know it hurts your feelings? I wish I didn’t know!” Matt dropped his head in his hands. “Oh, God. Look, I’m sorry. This whole thing makes me really uncomfortable, okay? I don’t know anything about—about doing this sort of thing. I never expected this. This has been a heck of a shock for me.”

Gabe rubbed his back reassuringly. “That’s understandable. Believe me, you came as a surprise to me, too.”

“Really? Because you seem as cool as a cucumber to me.”

“I’ve certainly had my moments. It was hard to tell my parents, and break up with my girlfriend.”

Matt finally looked up. “You broke up with your girlfriend?”

Gabe was suddenly tense. “Yes. Right away. Didn’t you?”

Matt felt immense guilt. “I told her we were going to have to talk at some point. I wasn’t sure how to . . . I mean, what with the lion and the lack of control and all. And having to go to Europe, it seemed like a bad time to make huge decisions like that, especially when I wasn’t sure if you . . . um. But we’re definitely on a hiatus,” he added quickly. Matt looked away. “You know . . . I mean, it’s not unheard of that soulmates don’t even have sex with each other. They go on to lead full lives with other people and are just, like, really close friends. I’m just saying,” he added at Gabe’s flair of dissatisfaction.

“I don’t want that,” Gabe told him. “I want everything. I want a lover, and a partner in life, and a friend, and someone to build my life around. I don’t want just your friendship, Matt. I want your _everything._ If I can’t have that with you, I will wait and let the bond die and try to find another.”

Matt stared at him, dumbfounded. He hadn’t realized Landy would feel so passionate about it. 

“Is that what you want?” Gabe looked at him steadily, and Matt could tell he was keeping a tight rein on things, no burst of emotion one way or another. “I know I’m not what you hoped for. Would you prefer to cut your losses?”

Matt tried to say yes—it was his out, his way out of this whole stupid mess—but he found himself shaking his head. 

Gabe grinned, suddenly Mr. Confidence all over again. “Good,” he said. He grabbed one of Matt’s hands, lifted it up and kissed the back of it, like some sort of Swedish Casanova.  


Matt couldn’t help chuckling self-consciously. Was this his life? Sitting here on some flower-strewn bed in frozen England with a crazy Swedish goober making lovesick eyes at him? Jesus.  


“You can laugh as long as you don’t say no,” Gabe said with a sigh, kissing his hand again and again. 

Matt felt that crazy feeling well up in him again, a kind of helpless tenderness. He shook his head. “Why do you want this?” he blurted. “Why do you want me?”

Gabe gave him a goofy smile. “Lots of reasons. Some of them might embarrass you,” he warned. “Sure you want to hear?”

Matt heaved a sigh. He was acutely conscious of the fact that if all went well, they’d soon be naked and in bed with each other. It wasn’t going to get _less_ embarrassing. Might as well go for it. He inclined his head, just once. 

Gabe beamed. “Well, you’re certainly cute.” At Matt’s gape of disbelief he added, “I think you’re really cute, anyway. And when you play . . . well, it’s sexy. You get kind of intense and really into it and your eyes have a spark in them. It’s exciting to watch you, to be near you when you’re like that. You work hard every day, you get all excited to play, and you never give up no matter how bad Sac—er . . . how tough things get. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that you’re a good player. I mean, if you sucked, it would be different. Maybe in that case I wouldn’t want to be seen with you.”

Matt laughed along with him. “Well, I think I still have a lot to work on, but thanks.” 

“But even if I take the hockey out of consideration, you’re fun. I mean, we hang out together, go to concerts together, and we always have a good time, right? And with . . . like kids and stuff, you’re really good.” Gabe blushed, looking away. “You have a good spirit, Dutchy.” 

Great, now they were both flushed and fidgety and acting like they were about fourteen years old. He felt Gabe punch him in the arm. “What about me? It’s my turn to fish for compliments. You spend a lot of your time running away. Isn’t there anything you like about me?”

Matt gave him a look. “In the first place, I did not _run away._ I . . . just made a tactical retreat so I could review my options when I had some emotional distance.” Gabe rolled his eyes theatrically. Matt shrugged. “Anyway, you don’t need me to tell you that you’re the best-looking guy on the team.” _Possibly the best-looking guy in existence, but then I’m not exactly impartial._

“Looks aren’t everything,” Gabe said seriously. 

That struck Matt as hilarious. “Really? From the amount of time you spend on your hair, I wouldn’t have guessed you felt that way.” Gabe gave him the stink eye. “I like you a lot, okay? You’re a good guy.” Gabe was still sitting there, looking at him expectantly, and Matt began to feel tongue-tied. This was not his area of expertise. “You’re a good player too, and you’ve got a heck of a forecheck.” This was met by the sort of silence that said, _Try again, Romeo._ Matt twisted his hands in his lap. “I don’t know.” He was too embarrassed to tell him that he had sort of begun to obsess about the shape of Gabe’s mouth. And he’d die before admitting there was something really flattering the way Gabe pursued him halfway around the world. No way he could say stuff like that. And he wasn’t going to go into how he’d started to have sexual fantasies about Gabe. He took a deep breath. “I like that you’re a huge goofball. Before you were on the team, things sucked pretty hard. Like, even more than they suck now, if you can believe it. But when you joined the team . . . well, you made things kinda fun again.” Matt thought about Gabe’s smile, the way he laughed, the way he joked around with people. “When you’re around, everything is different. Better.”

He stole a quick look at Gabe, just to see if this was enough or if he’d get dinged for not having a romantic enough answer, but Gabe looked pleased, like what Matt said was just right. Or at least like it was enough. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You like . . . light up a room. That’s what I like best about you.” Matt glanced up again, but before he could say another word Gabe pounced on him, shoving him down on the bed and kissing him again and again, just light little pecks all over Matt’s face as Matt laughed helplessly.  
“Get off me, you goon,” he spluttered. 

“Nuh-uh.” Gabe kissed him again, on the mouth now, much more slowly this time. 

Despite his reservations, Matt was starting to get turned on. Gabe kissed him deeply, tongue teasing Matt’s, his thumb stroking Matt’s cheek. 

Matt moaned a little, reaching up to gently card his fingers through Gabe’s soft hair.

Gabe reached down, slipping a hand between them, stroking him through his pants. Matt had never even imagined how fucking hot it would be, having that big, square hand pressing possessively against his dick.

“You like that, don’t you, Dutchy?” Gabe said, eyes smoldering.

“Hogod,” Matt breathed. He could feel Gabe’s erection against his thigh; Landy was beginning to rut against him. He couldn’t help it; he even raised his leg a little to give the guy some friction. 

Gabe nuzzled him, running his face up and down Matt’s neck, his shoulder, his chest. 

“What are you doing?” 

Gabe growled. He nipped Matt’s neck—more gently this time. As Gabe kissed and sucked his skin, Matt grew warm, knowing the guy was leaving his mark. Was that really necessary?  
Matt stroked his hair; he seemed to like that a lot. He nuzzled Matt’s hand. He bumped his jaw along Matt’s fingertips. He reminded Matt, powerfully, of a housecat marking something it liked. Matt felt his heart sink. 

“Gabe?” he said cautiously. 

Gabe was panting. He looked at Matt with eyes dark with want. Matt was spellbound. Gabe leaned over him, inhaling deeply. 

Matt could sense that something was wrong. “Gabe. _Gabe, _” he repeated, trying to stay calm. He grabbed hold of Gabe’s shoulders—holy shit, the guy was stronger than a mammoth. He gave him a shake. “Gabe! Why are you sniffing me?”__

__Gave shook his head. He looked muzzy. He reached out and traced a finger over Matt’s throat. “You smell like fresh meat,” he whispered._ _

__Matt felt like a bucket of ice had been thrown over his head. Bucking, he knocked Gabe right off the bed and jumped to his feet. “Holy shit. Holy shit, Gabe. Did you even hear yourself?”_ _

__Gabe blinked furiously up at him. “I . . . well, kind of. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I was doing so well. I certainly never had anything like that happen to me back in the States. I just . . . oh, I could smell it on you, Matty.”_ _

__“Smell what?” Matt asked tensely, backing away toward the door._ _

__Gabe looked away. “Did you ever eat mastodon?”_ _

__Matt went still. “Not since . . . no. Not since the ritual.”_ _

__“I haven’t since I met you, but I did before. And . . . I don’t know, Matt. I think it’s the lion. You smell like . . . you smell delicious.” He buried his face in his hands. “And I can taste it when I look at you. I mean, I want . . . I want you, too. The other way. When I’m near you, and even when I’m not, I think about how badly I want to be in you. But other times,” he gave a hysterical laugh, “I want you in me, and in a really sick way. I’m sorry, Dutchy. I’m so sorry. This isn’t me, I swear. I don’t want to hurt you. I just can’t make it stop. I’m afraid. I’m so afraid, Dutchy. I’m afraid of myself.”_ _

__For all that had happened, Matt found he couldn’t blame Gabe too much. It was all Sacco’s fault, anyway, pushing and pushing. Gabe was shaking like a leaf, fist pressed to his mouth, eyes sick with horror. His breath came in little hitches and when he shut his eyes a tear dripped down his nose. How awful would it be to have something like that in you, trying to get out?_ _

__Matt took a deep breath and sat down beside him, and pulled him into a hug. “I know, Gabe,” he murmured, rocking him back and forth. “This . . . this really sucks. But we’re gonna get you some help, okay? We’re gonna figure something out.”_ _

__Gabe sucked in a shaky breath and wiped his nose with the back of his arm. “So I guess sex is probably off the table tonight, huh?” he said with a weak, miserable grin._ _

__“Yeah, I’m afraid you’ll have to make due with Rosie Palm and her five sisters if you wanna get off tonight.” Matt shrugged. “But if you need a hug, I’m around.” Gabe smiled gratefully. “Separate beds?” Matt suggested._ _

__Gabe flinched and nodded. “Separate rooms, I think.”_ _

Matt thumped him on the back. He went to the closet to find a coat with a collar that would cover up the love bite on his neck. To his surprise, he found a stack of books at the bottom of the closet: _The Predator Inside_ was one, _How to Win Raises, Make Friends and Get Ahead in Life by Understanding spirit animal Interactions,_ was another, and a third was simply, _Broken Souls._ Matt stared at them for a long time. Was Gabe reading these? Why hadn’t he mentioned it? _Because they aren’t helping,_ he thought. Slowly Matt said, “Okay. Hang in there, bud. I’ll go talk to the manager.” He gave the guy a look. “But starting tomorrow, you need to show me more initiative and start taking care of some shit.” 

__As he headed downstairs, he took his phone out and grimly dialed up his girlfriend. Shitty timing, it was true, but he needed to start taking care of shit, too._ _

____

oOoOoOo

The next morning Gabe still seemed sort of wiped, so Matt told him to sleep in. Whatever he’d been through had taken a lot out of him. Matt let him sleep and had breakfast in the hotel dining room, feeling at loose ends. It was all very well to tell Gabe to take care of shit, but the fact of the matter was that if he didn’t do something himself, shit was probably not going to get taken care of. But he wasn’t sure where to start. He didn’t know any experts in spirit animals, certainly not in London. And if he managed to find one and ask them, wouldn’t word get out that Gabe was having some huge malfunction?

He suspected it was all because Gabe wasn’t mature enough, but who would be able to tell? And then suddenly it hit him; other guys who Quickened young might know something. Maybe this wasn’t so uncommon? Maybe they’d had problems too, and learned how to deal? And he knew someone who had Quickened really young, too, the youngest of all up until Gabe. He knew Sidney Crosby. He should call him and ask.

It felt a little bit weird to call him up, just like they were friends or something. Not that they weren’t, exactly; they trained together in the summer and stuff, and Sid was always friendly to Matt, but they weren’t best buddies or anything. 

Maybe Matt just felt awkward because Sid was a God, the best hockey player Matt ever met, and there was no way to ring up a guy like that and not feel a little bit strange, because it kind of felt like calling up the King of England or something. 

Another big reason Matt felt weird was that it was no secret how much he looked up to Sid, and he’d taken a lot of shit about it. Sam Gagner also trained with them and for some reason he thought Matt’s totally appropriate respect for Sidney was weird or something. If Matt told Sid he made a good shot, Gagner would start snickering and say things like, “Hey Sid, hey Sid! Whatcha wanna do next, Sid? Wanna chase a puck, Sid?!? Wanna chase a puck? Huh? Huh?” or if Matt sat too close to Crosby, Sam would squeak, “Hey Sid, we're buddies ain't we, Sid? We're pals, ain't we, Sid? Huh, huh, huh?” Gagner thought that bit was hilarious, right up until Matt absolutely undressed him in a White vs. Blue game at training camp. After that he was a little less likely to stir shit, but Matt, keenly aware that suddenly everyone thought of him as that little yappy dog that trailed around after Sid, took a big couple of steps back. So yeah, it was kind of awkward to call Sidney Crosby, even though he’d been really cool about it and valiantly pretended not to hear most of the chirping. Or maybe he really hadn’t noticed. Sid could zero in on the smallest thing on the ice, but sometimes real life just seemed to go over his head. 

But anyway, Matt had done a lot of growing up this past year, and the proof was that he was suddenly dealing with bizarre adult problems like his soulmate trying to eat his face. Which was at least more interesting than adult problems like tax audits. And he wasn’t sure if Sidney Crosby would have any advice on that, but Sid usually gave good advice, and anyway, up until this summer _he_ had been the youngest guy in pro hockey to have Quickened, so he was likely to know as much as anyone. Matt dialed him up and moved over by one of the windows, where he had some privacy.

Sid picked up on the sixth ring. He sounded tired. 

“Hey. It’s Duchene. Where are you?” Matt asked. 

“Spokane.”

“Spokane _Washington?_ Why? What’s in Spokane?”

Sid yawned. “Nothing much,” he answered. “What did you need, Matty?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I wanted to ask you about your spirit animal.”

There was a long pause, and when Sid answered, he sounded guarded. “What about it?” Crosby seemed kind of wary, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Matt knew he valued his privacy and hadn’t always had a great relationship with the media. Maybe he felt like Matt was fishing for something bad or something.

“Well, it’s kind of more about your Quickening,” Matt said apologetically. “I just, I wanted to know, was it easy for you? I mean, did everything work right away? Since you were so young, I wondered if you had control over it or if it took a while to sort of settle into it or something.”

“What, are you writing a biography or something?”

“What? No. It’s just, um, I know this guy, right, and he Quickened really young and I get the impression it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. He’s struggling with some complications, so I wondered if you had any insight. Did you, uh, face similar problems?”

“Complications, huh?” Sid hummed. “Well, no, mine was pretty straight-forward, I guess.”

“Beaver, right?” Matt said, feeling hopeless. “And you didn’t have any problems with it at all?”

“Giant beaver, yeah,” Sid told him with some reluctance. It was all over the papers at the time—people thought it was just hilarious; Sidney Crosby, symbol of Canada. The editorial cartoons had been pretty unflattering. Sid had soured on the jokes, which got old fast and dragged on forever. “I guess it was just like anybody else’s Quickening. Why? What’s your friend’s problem?” 

“Oh. Well . . . huh. I guess I hoped it would be more than that. Because the guy I told you about . . . he doesn’t seem to have great control over his animal, and sometimes he acts weird, like he’s—like he _is_ the animal, or something. I think maybe he did it too young. Like he wasn’t ready, and the bond didn’t take.”

“Sounds crazy to me,” Sid said. “Look, there’s no such thing as Quickening too young. It’s a biological development, like going through puberty and having wet dreams and stuff like that. I mean, physically, it happens when it happens. I guess mentally he might not have been prepared, but again . . . I’d say take him for a psych eval or something. Because it sounds like a mental thing, thinking you’re an animal.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Matt hadn’t even considered it. Was it possible? Maybe Gabe really had an actual mental illness or something, like schizophrenia, and the whole lion problem was just the first manifestation. Matt wasn’t sure. He didn’t know the ins and outs of mental illness. He’d have to look into that. “Thanks, that’s something to think about.” He sighed. “Sid, have you met your soulmate?” he forced himself to ask.

“Matty, I like you and everything, but you’re really not my type.”

“That’s not funny. I meant, well. Have you? You Quickened really young. You’ve had more time than other guys your age.”

Matt could almost hear him shrug. “Sure, but sometimes you don’t meet your soulmate for half a lifetime, if ever. There’s no guarantee that if you Quicken young, you’ll Mate young, too. Anyway, soulmates . . . like I don’t have enough going on right now. Why the hell are you going on about soulmates?”

“Well, you know. I mean. I might have, sort have . . . met mine, or something. I guess I’d feel a lot better if I knew other people who were going through it, too.”

“Sorry. I can’t imagine anything I would know less about. The whole idea is just . . . I just don’t get it. Why would you even want to go through that? I mean, I know it happens, but . . . well, I’m hoping I’m one of the lucky ones who won’t have to deal with that. I can’t imagine a bigger distraction.”

“Well, it feels right. It feels good,” Matt told him, reflexively, defensively, even.

“Better than winning a Cup? Tell me after you’ve tried both,” Sid said. 

“It really does feel good,” Matt murmured, but he didn’t know what to say to make Sid understand. It was like the Quickening in that respect. Because it was a mark of maturity, it meant you had passed into adulthood; it was also kind of a quantum leap. You couldn’t really explain it, because you didn’t have the perspective to understand it until you’d been through it. 

“Sure, okay. But you can’t hold a kiss over your head and skate around the ice with it,” Sid pointed out. “Hockey is real. Feelings are just . . . feelings. And they change. The Cup will always be the Cup, you know?”

As usual, Sid was great until you got into the feelings and stuff. There was no point in pushing further. “I guess so. Well, thanks anyway,” Matt said. “I just have a lot of questions right now, and I thought you might have answers, since you’re so mature and all,” he joked. 

“Yeah, right,” Sid told him. “Hey, don’t get obsessed with junk like soulmates, okay? Don’t worry about it. There are more important things in life, you know?”

“Right,” Matt said. He understood. Hockey was important, and the Olympic games were coming up soon, and if Matt wanted to make the team, he had a lot of work to do. And Sid was right; you really needed to keep your eye on your goal, when it came to things like that. 

Sid sighed. “Look, I’ve got to go, okay? I had a really long night. Call me in a day or so if you’ve got more questions.”

“I think I’m set. Thanks for the advice, though,” Matt told him. 

“Sure, Matty.” Sid sounded a lot warmer. “Sorry to be short. Just tired. _Really_ tired,” he added through a yawn.

“No problem. Get some sleep, man.” Matt hung up. It occurred to him that Sid never actually answered his question about a soulmate. He’d implied that he didn’t know what Matt was talking about, but he’d sort of hedged when asked directly. Well, it was kind of personal. He hadn’t told him about Gabe, either.

He stared out the window, unseeing. Could Gabe have a mental illness? Would medication or therapy or something fix everything? Or at least improve things? He was going to have to get Gabe to go to a doctor. 

Someone punched him in the shoulder and Matt blinked up to find Gabe standing next to him. “Have you seen the news?”

Wordlessly, Matt shook his head. Gabe grabbed up the remote and turned the dining room television to the B.B.C. 

A reporter with the dark hair and somber expression was saying, “. . . sudden rupture of the ice dam on the Clark Ford River outside of Spokane, Washington. So far eleven deaths have been reported. However, the Associated Press notes that fatalities would have been much higher if not for the dozens of beaver dams erected overnight in several crucial areas. We are still looking for confirmation of the identities of the men and women involved in directing the spirit animals to the area, but as yet no names have been released. We will have updates for you at the top of the hour. The site of the flood, you will remember, was the same as the massive Missoula Flood of 1933, which affected the Clark Ford and Columbia rivers and flooded much of eastern Washington and the Willamette Valley. It was the worst flood in the recorded history of North America, in which more than two thousand people lost their lives.”

Matt watched, open-mouthed, as the screen was filled of images contrasting the recent flooding with black and white photographs of the catastrophic damage of the previous Missoula Flood. [(Link to article re: real Missoula Floods)](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missoula_Floods)

 _Think about more important things, huh?_ he thought sheepishly. Sometimes he really was a dunce. His phone rang and he picked it up, surprised to hear from Cody Hodgson. “Yeah, I saw the news,” he said. “It’s all over the B.B.C. Well, I guess it could have been a lot worse.” He listened, nodding as Cody pointed out that the damage to the city would be costly even if you didn’t take into account the lives lost. “I guess that’s true. And of course, people are going to be homeless and people will need supplies, and then there’s the cost to rebuild . . .” He grinned. Cody was a good guy. “Yeah, I’d be happy to get involved in some kind of relief efforts. Yeah, let me know.” Matt hung up.

“Hit me up with anything I can do,” Gabe told him. 

“Yeah.” Matt heaved a sigh. The flooding, at least, was straightforward. The flood was the problem, and money was the solution. He still didn’t have any idea how to solve his problem with Gabe at all—or even the cause of it.

He looked at Gabe for a long moment. “Would you consider counseling when we get back to the States?” he asked apprehensively. 

Gabe looked at him silently. Then he nodded. 

Well, it couldn’t hurt, at least.

oOoOoOo

Matt glanced up, taking in the crowd. They weren’t sold out or anything, but it wasn’t a bad turnout. He grinned at all those burgundy and blue jerseys. God, it was good to be back where he belonged. When he’d walked into the locker room that morning and saw his name, _Duchene,_ in the same style as Joe Sakic, he couldn’t help but feel proud and humbled. London had been a good experience and he learned a lot from it, but the point of that was to be able to apply the lessons here, in front of the fans. His fans. He might not get on with Sacco, might not see eye to eye with management, but he loved the fans here with every fiber of his being.

He was going to have a great season, what there was left of it. He’d give it everything he’d got.

As he circled, McGinn slipped him a neat little pass. He looked up at Sacco for a split second, torn. His own instincts told him if he had the puck outside the zone he shouldn’t just throw it away, but Sacco would have wanted him to think defensively and—

Before he could overthink it, he ran in and ripped a low-lying shot to beat Hackett five-hole. Whooping, he launched himself at McGinn. As Matt skated past the bench, high-fiving the guys, he saw Gabe give Ginner a nudge. A _hard_ nudge, one that seemed to confuse the big guy. Matt pushed Gabe aside. “What was that?” he muttered from the corner of his mouth. 

Gabe just gave him that look, pupils dilated, distant. “I don’t like him touching you like that,” he said hoarsely. 

Matt felt a cold jolt somewhere near his stomach. “ _Gabe_ ,” he whispered. “Get it together!” 

Sacco snapped at them to change lines, and Matt hopped over the boards. He watched Gabe closely, but the guy seemed to blink and come back to himself once Matt was a little further away. Shit. This could be bad. This could be really, really bad.

There was a whistle and stoppage of play. Everyone relaxed a little as they settled in to wait out a television time out. Ginner seemed to have forgotten the incident, which was a relief. Matt scooted over to Giguère. He’d been meaning to talk to the guy. He was one of the veterans, and he always doled out good advice. “Hey, Jiggy?” he said. 

The goaltender inclined his head. 

“You know my spirit animal is a mastodon, right? You know anyone else like that? What are their soulmates’ animals?”

Jiggy laughed. “Must be something in the air. Gabe asked me about soulmates and spirit animals, too.”

“He did?” Matt felt a brief flare of annoyance. Why hadn’t Gabe told him? They should be working together. “You ever hear of . . . of a predator mating with a prey, and then wanting to, like, kill them?”

Jiggy grinned. “Sure, I have heard of such things, Dutchy. I think that is what you would call, uh, an urban myth.”

“So you never heard about it really happening?”

“I can’t tell what you are looking for. Reassurance because you watched a scary movie?”

“No!” Matt couldn’t help laughing. 

“Try your local library,” the goaltender suggested with a grin. “They find you books on anything.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Matt admitted. 

“DUCHENE!” Sacco thundered, and Matt twitched guiltily. 

He looked up at the coach. “Uh, yes, sir?”

“Since you’re having such a nice conversation while I’m trying to direct the team, you can just stay there on the bench for your shift. O’Reilly, take Duchene’s place.”

Matt shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t—” But Sacco had stomped off. Matt was back in Sacco’s doghouse again.

As Gabe skated past the bench he gave Matt an apologetic look. “Hey, we gotta talk later,” he said. “Got an idea, okay?”

Matt shrugged. As long as he and Gabe stayed well away from each other on the ice, they seemed to do okay. No lion attacks at the rink, at any rate. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll try anything once.” 

Jiggy patted his shoulder and gave him a commiserating look. “Don’t let Sacco get to you,” he said in an undertone. “Keep your focus and try to remember that this, too, will pass.”

“Yeah, right,” Matt mumbled miserably. He just couldn’t play the guy’s system. He didn’t see any hope for change. 

He rode the bench pretty much the rest of the period, humiliated and frustrated. He’d seen less than ten minutes of ice time.

oOoOoOo

Matt slid into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt. “You mind telling me where we’re going?”

He realized Gabe, behind his designer sunglasses, was gazing at him in dismay. “Are you wearing that?”

“What?” Matt said defensively. He glanced down at his outfit—jeans and a plaid shirt and shit-kickers, pretty much like every day. Actually, he was proud of the boots—they were stylish black rattlesnake skin. “Are we going somewhere fancy or something?”

Gabe shook his head. Matt doubted there was a single thing on Landy’s body that didn’t come with a pretentious label. Matt wanted to resent that, but the fact was that he looked good enough to eat. “We’re . . . going to meet my counselor,” Gabe informed him.

“Oh. Why? I thought they said you checked out. No mental illness, no aberrations of thinking, all safe and sane . . . when you’re not near Duchene,” Matt added wryly.

Gabe’s smile was thin. “I kept seeing someone anyway. I mean, it’s certainly obvious that I’m _not_ okay. But anyway, she suggested I bring you in for a group session sometime. She thought it might be a good idea.”

“Couples counseling? That’s a heck of a thing to spring on a guy right after a hockey game,” Matt said.

“I thought you might be able to use it, after the Sacco thing. And, um, I thought I could use it, too. After what happened. I could have really hurt Ginner. I mean, if we’re going to play together, I have to get this under control.”

Matt couldn’t argue with that. “At least we’re not on the same line,” he sighed.

The counselor was a tiny woman with incredibly serious, large brown eyes. She introduced herself as Dr. Brown and had them take a seat. She had a lot of credentials up on the walls, along with a picture of a sun-dappled orchard with a rabbit hiding under a leaf. He guessed that was probably her spirit animal then, a rabbit. 

Matt sat in an overstuffed leather chair. It was incredibly comfortable, soft as butter. Probably to lull you into a false sense of security, he decided, so they could ask you the tough questions.  
“Since Gabe has been having problems controlling his spirit animal, and your bond, I thought it might be beneficial to get your insights, since you’re his soulmate.”

Matt suddenly felt a lot better about this. He realized he’d been braced for bad news—he was sure she would tell him this whole thing was his fault, just like everyone else. “Well, uh, I’m not sure how I can help, but I’m willing to try.”

“Good. Why don’t you tell me about the Quickening from your point of view?”

Matt obliged. He stressed that the lion had gone after him several times even after the bond had formed, and Gabe had struggled to keep it away. 

“And have you had encounters with it since then?”

Matt nodded, flushing unhappily. “Sometimes it prowls around my backyard. And . . .” He glanced at Gabe, and then back at Dr. Brown. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything about the dreams; they weren’t pertinent to Gabe’s problems. 

“Go on,” she urged. 

“Well, it’s just that I think the next bit’s more about me than him.”

“That’s fine. Now that you’ve bonded, there will be spillover of emotion, so we shouldn’t discount anything on that count.”

That was logical. Matt cleared his throat. “I’ve been having these nightmares about it,” he confessed. “Like there’s been a big blizzard and someone’s cleared a path through the snow, only it’s a narrow path and the snow is really deep. And I’m walking along it for some reason, but I’m uneasy because I know there’s only the one path. And I can’t go in any other direction, because of all the snow.” He hesitated, but Dr. Brown nodded encouragingly. “Well, I have this bad feeling in the dream. I know if anything happens, I have nowhere to run. And then I sense it behind me. I start to run. I don’t look back, because that’ll cost me time, but I know it’s the lion and I know it’s gaining. It’s terrifying. So I dodge into the snow and make for a hill. But I can’t run in the deep snow; I struggle as it gets closer and closer. And then I’m near a ledge or a ladder or sometimes some inexplicable shelves, even, and I try to climb, but just when I think I’m safe it snags me and drags me down—and that’s when I wake up, covered in sweat.”

Dr. Brown made some notes. “And do you always run?”

Matt shrugged. “Sure, what else am I going to do? Wait to get eaten?”

“You’ve never faced the lion?”

A little embarrassed, Matt shook his head. “And . . . a couple of times I had this other dream.” It took him a moment to go on. “Like . . . like I’m the one hunting something. I’m following someone or something, stalking it. I can tell its afraid of me. And that . . . makes me excited. I know that sounds sick but that’s how the dream goes. And sometimes I catch it. I knock it down and drag my claws through it; I have claws and teeth and I never had dreams like that before. Not before the Quickening.”

He risked a look at Gabe; he looked awful. His face was white and drawn with guilt. 

“That’s very interesting. You’re certainly experiencing that because of the bond. It’s actually not unheard of,” the doctor said.

“It’s not?” 

“No. Almost everyone has an awareness of their soulmate’s spirit animal. Usually it is just a distant impression of another consciousness. Sometimes it is stronger, especially if your soulmate is in some sort of crisis and calling to his animal. Then you will typically feel its instincts and urges, quite separate and distinct from your own animal’s. And I have heard of some instances where stronger impressions break through. This usually occurs when there is herd behavior—a stampede, for instance, can come through quite strongly.”

The knowledge made Matt feel somewhat better. The dreams left him feeling ashamed and confused; it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one who had them, even if his were on the weird end of the spectrum. 

“Of course, I haven’t heard of predator impressions, but as you know predator bondings are very rare anyway. I will look into the research. Are these dreams something you and Gabe have discussed?”

The question took Matt by surprise. “I—well, no.” She didn’t say anything else, and Matt sensed she was waiting for more. “He has enough on his plate, and anyway, what could he do about it?”

“I could listen,” Gabe suggested quietly.

Matt didn’t look at him. “You shouldn’t have to worry about my crap.”

“Gabe?” the counselor prodded. Matt had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that he’d walked into a trap.

“You never confide in me!” Gabe burst out. 

Matt looked at him in disbelief. “Look who’s talking! You never even told me you were doing counseling, let alone that you wanted me to do it, too. And you didn’t tell me that you talked to Jiggy. That’s something you should have suggested, and then we could have worked together.”

“That’s because you shoot down my suggestions. You always tell me I should be taking the initiative to do this stuff, but then you get angry when I do. I feel like I can’t win.” Landy glared down at his lap.

“Yeah, well, join the party,” Matt said with a bitter laugh. 

“Jesus, are you still sore about the game?”

“I am, and you should be, too! It _should_ hurt when we lose a game. If it doesn’t hurt, that means you don’t care enough.”

“Yeah, but you work yourself into knots about it. You’re like a dog with a bone. I’m beginning to think you _enjoy_ beating yourself up about it, wallowing. I think Sacco is fucking you up.” Gabe looked unhappy. “I think maybe I should talk to him.”

Matt’s jaw dropped. “Don’t you dare!”

“I’m the captain. There is a serious dysfunction in my team, and my job is to run interference between the two of you. I think if I sit down with him—”

“He’s not going to listen! He never listens. His way or the highway, remember?” 

Dr. Brown made a small, curious noise, and Matt hunched down in his seat, reminded that they had an audience. 

“Sacco is our coach. He rides Dutchy pretty hard,” Gabe told her. Matt gave him a dark look. This was dirty laundry he didn’t want aired.

“And you feel like he doesn’t listen to you?” she asked Matt perceptively. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. It has nothing to do with . . . the rest of this stuff, anyway.”

“I understand your reluctance, but everything said here is confidential. Please think over the possibility of discussing it,” Dr. Brown urged. 

Matt thought it over. “Well. Yeah. Maybe that would be a good idea,” he agreed. “I don’t like to talk about it to anyone on the team, because I don’t want to poison the atmosphere. But . . . I always wanted to be an Av. I was so proud when they picked me. Now I feel like I can’t even talk about it with my family because then I would have to admit I’m a failure,” he muttered. “The only one I can talk to is Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?”

“Oh, that’s the mastodon that was Called to my Quickening,” Matt explained. “Doesn’t talk much, but he’s a good listener.”

“You can talk to me,” Gabe interrupted. He was doing the big, tragic eyes at Matt again.

Matt didn’t answer. Gabe was his captain. Besides, Gabe wouldn’t just listen—he was compulsively driven to take action, and Matt really didn’t want him confronting Sacco. Sometimes things had gotten heated between the two men lately, and Matt suspected it was all over him. Last time they’d argued he’d half expected Landy to sock the guy in the jaw. Fat lot of good that would do their careers.

“Have you ever tried speaking to your lion?” Dr. Brown asked Gabe. 

“ _No._ It doesn’t listen anyway.”

“Have you named it?”

“No.”

Matt looked at Gabe warily. His fists were clenched in his lap, his face stony. He very rarely got like this—usually only when they were losing badly.

“You might consider it,” Dr. Brown told him. “A name carries with it a suggestion of personality and a personal relationship. You might find it easier to bond to a creature if you name it and begin identifying it as a personality, not just an animal. It would also help you to understand it has a separate consciousness from your own.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Outstanding,” Matt said. 

Gabe rolled his eyes. “I don’t wanna name something that’s destroying my life,” he muttered.

“It might be helpful for Matt as well,” Dr. Brown pointed out, “to view the thing as a distinct personality and not just a meat-eating machine—or a Matt-eating machine as the case may be.”

“Hey, yeah. You don’t think that’s a good idea?” Matt asked. “Come on, just pick a name.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Gabe snarled. “Then the lion’s name is _Fuck Off_ , because that’s all I want it to do at this point.”

Matt was taken aback by this display of temper, but Dr. Brown seemed used to it. She made a few notes. 

It was very quiet for a few moments. 

Matt had pity on Gabe and changed the subject. He didn’t particularly want to talk about Sacco, but it was better than watching Gabe blow up. “You know, I think I’m a good hockey player, but Sacco has me doubting myself. Doubting everything. I love hockey, but it’s stopped being fun. Now I dread going to the rink, and when I fuck up, I start this downward spiral. I start kicking myself when I’m down until I can’t get back up again.” 

Dr. Brown nodded. “That may be contributing to the problem with the spirit animal. If your confidence is constantly low, it might be confused about your hierarchy in the bond. As you know, predator-prey bondings are rare, and apex-predator-prey bondings are almost unheard of. We don’t have a lot of information to draw from. But it’s possible the lion recognizes you as submissive—you’re certainly forced to be submissive to your coach. It might be challenging your status.”

Matt shifted in his chair. “It wants me to what, duel with it?”

“Possibly it believes itself stronger and wants to drive you off.”

“Oh, great.” Now he had a boyfriend who wanted to eat him and a lion that wanted to dethrone him or something. 

“It’s just possible that if we work on your self-esteem issues, we can bring you to the point where the lion recognizes you won’t be driven off, and will respect your place in the pecking order.”

“That . . . makes sense, I guess.”

Landy let Matt drive on the way back, saying he was tired. Matt could feel Gabe looking at him.

“Hey, Dutchy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?” Matt said, changing lanes.

“Not pushing. I guess I’m pretty frustrated right now. Dr. Brown says I’m a fascinating case, but I feel more like a freak of nature.”

“Tell me about it,” Matt said dryly. He offered Gabe a smile. “Hey. At least we’ve got each other, right?” he said philosophically. 

Gabe gave him a teasing smile. “You know, a guy could really fall for you.”

For once, Gabe’s flirting struck Matt as funny. “Well, I _am_ pretty fantastic,” he acknowledged.

oOoOoOo

They finished dead last in the conference.

Matt was actually more amazed than anything—he figured you had to _try_ to be as bad as this. He half suspected some of the guys were doing just that, especially when a group of them immediately started making plans to hit Vegas afterward. 

He found he couldn’t even be that upset about it. Not as much as he’d have imagined, anyway. They’d get a good pick from it and anyway, at least it was over. Now he would get to go train with Crosby, and that was gonna be pretty great. He promised himself that he’d head into next season in the best shape of his career. Plus, last year had been exhausting, and Gabe had had injuries, and maybe now they would have time to really concentrate on dealing with the spirit animal issue. 

When O’Reilly gave him a sour look as they walked out of the locker room, Matt found himself clapping the guy on the back. “Don’t look so sad just ‘cuz we’re the worst team in the entire league,” he said with inappropriate cheer. 

Ryan’s blue eyes glared at him. “Why not?”

“Because,” Matt told him. “We can’t sink any lower.” He grinned. “Nowhere to go from here but up.”


	3. June 6, 2013: A Fishing Interlude and June 21, 2013: A Midsummer’s Night Trip to Ikea

“Fishing? You want to go fishing?” Matt stared at the brand new rod in Gabe’s hand. The price tag was still stuck to it. “Since when is fishing your thing?”

“It isn’t, but it’s your thing.” At Matt’s blank stare Gabe added, “I just kind of wanted to spend some time with you. I figured as long as I didn’t get frisky we’d be okay. I mean, fishing is certainly not going to get my engine revving, right? And Dr. Brown says she thinks my problems are probably related to excitement.”

“You say that because you’ve never caught a fish,” Matt told him. “There’s a real thrill in landing a big one. Besides that, fishing can be meditative and almost spiritual.”

“Great,” Gabe told him with a grin. “Let’s go and you can tell me all about it.” 

Matt realized he’d walked right into that one. Still, he wasn’t going to protest. Fishing all day sounded ideal to him, even if chatty Landy wanted to come along. It’d be a nice change of pace from the stack of dry spirit bond books he had in the other room. Heck, if Gabe ended up enjoying himself maybe they could do it more often. Matt realized with chagrin that he was getting used to the idea of being a couple. 

The ride up was pleasant—Gabe knew all about making conversation, and even let Matt pick the radio station. They took their time and had fun looking out for wildlife. They spotted lots of deer, a mink, and at one point even a giant ground sloth grazing by the side of the road. Gabe pulled over. 

“Wow, whatta beauty,” Matt breathed. 

“Look at the size of it! The thing’s got to be eight feet long,” Gabe said excitedly. The sloth reared up to get a better view of the creatures that had stopped to view it. It poked its nose forward in a comical fashion, sniffing at the air a little, curious about its visitors. “Would have been nice to bond to something chill like a ground sloth,” Gabe said in a wistful voice. Matt felt sort of sad. Gabe had been so excited to bond to something as impressive as a lion, and now he hadn’t even seen the thing in almost a month.

Arriving at the lake buoyed Matt’s spirits considerably. The snowcapped peaks towered above them, but there were wildflowers as far as the eye could see, surrounding the lake with a blanket of dizzy color. There was a herd of bison not too far off, browsing on some shrubbery. They gave the beasts a wide berth and headed for the lake. 

To Matt’s amusement, Gabe went to the back of his truck and pulled out a picnic basket, picnic blanket, and two large bottles of wine. 

“Oh, sure, you wanted to go fishing. I see what your real plan is, now,” Matt told him. 

“I’m just saying . . . if you catch some trout we certainly shouldn’t waste them.”

“If _I_ catch some trout, huh? What happened to you wanting to enjoy the wonders of fishing?” Matt arched a brow at him. 

“Oh, it’s not that. It’s just that everyone knows that you’re a really great fisherman, so you’re more likely to get one than I am.” Looking up into Landy’s overly innocent blue eyes, Matt _almost_ believed him. Well, either way, he had a glacial lake, the impressive beauty of the craggy mountains, and a whole lot of trout to catch. If Gabe was up to something, he’d let it slip sooner or later. Matt wouldn’t let it ruin his day. 

Just like Matt suspected, Gabe gave up on fishing before too long, but that was okay, because he’d brought a book. He lounged on the picnic blanket, sunning himself, looking chic in his shades, reading about soulmates, drinking a little wine, snapping selfies, and taking the occasional picture of Matt and tweeting it to everyone in existence. 

“What the heck are you doing?” Matt asked at one point when the click of the camera distracted from his back cast. 

“My sister wanted a picture of you.”

Matt looked over at him. “You’re not tweeting her, are you?”

“Nah. Straight email.”

Matt felt a blotchy blush creeping up his neck. He knew better than to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “What are you telling her?” he tried hard to sound casual.

He could hear the smile in Gabe’s voice as he answered, “I said, ‘Here’s my sweetness, min vackra blomma, looking all handsome as he works hard to catch my dinner.” 

Matt laughed. “You did not say that.”

“Yes, I certainly did. I put little hearts in, too, so she’s knows it’s serious. If a guy takes you fishing, that pretty much means you are going steady, right?” Gabe teased. 

Matt couldn’t even cast, he was laughing so hard. Face hot, he came over to check. “Show me.”

“No. You’ll take my phone away,” Gabe said mulishly. 

“Give it.” Matt pointed at the camera and tried to look stern.

“You can’t order me around. I’m the captain.”

“It’s the offseason, and I’m older and smarter and anyway, I know where you sleep.” Gabe tried to roll over to hide the cell phone under his body, but Matt knew this trick, and he also knew Gabe had awfully ticklish ankles. It only took moments for Matt to have him kicking and laughing and surrendering his phone.

He scrolled through to find not one, but about a dozen pictures of himself, cap pulled low, shades dark, looking serious as he cast the line. True to his word, Gabe had managed to put little pink hearts around his image. They were flashing on and off. Matt laughed so hard he couldn’t talk. 

“You total ass,” he snorted. “How the heck did you even do that?”

“Eh, apparently I’m not the only one with too much time on their hands. Someone made an app for it. Come on, I got a fire pit. You got, what, four or five fish? That’s enough, isn’t it?”

“All right,” Matt agreed. In a few minutes they had a nice little fire and the fish smelled great. Even though he’d caught some pretty fat trout, Matt ended up glad for the picnic basket. Gabe had got some fresh herbs, some French bread and even a lemon. And the wine was good, too. 

“You know, this was nice,” Matt said contentedly as they finished up. He and Gabe were sprawled beside each other on the blanket, drinking the wine straight from the bottle. The sun was beginning to set, setting the sky on fire. It was actually pretty romantic to be lounging by a nice fire, drinking wine and surrounded by the splendor of wildflowers and an amazing sunset. Of course, there was a whole herd of bison between them and the truck, but they were bound to move eventually. “We should do this more often.”

“Yeah, we should.” Gabe sounded weird. 

Matt rolled over, propped himself up on his elbow and looked at him. “Okay, so what’s the catch?”

“Apart from the trout?”

“You’ve had something on your mind all day. Spill.”

Gabe sighed. “Dr. Brown thought this would be good for us. She thinks . . . uh, she thinks lack of intimacy is the main thing keeping me from fully bonding with the spirit animal.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I don’t follow, but it doesn’t really matter. We haven’t been able to get anywhere close to fucking before you turn around and start trying to murder me. I’m sorry, Gabe, but I find that a real mood killer.”

Gabe sat up and traced the pattern on the blanket with a finger, not meeting Matt’s eyes. “Well, yeah. But we could take, um, precautions.”

“Yeah? Hey, you’re right, I could wear a neck guard. Hell, I could go in full goalie gear, how about that?” Matt said with a dry smile. 

Gabe dropped the other shoe. It sort of had a steel toe and hit Matt square on the head. “Dr. Brown says . . . Dr. Brown says we should try it in a controlled environment. Under. Um. Under supervision.” 

“ _What?_ ” Matt squawked. 

“In a laboratory,” Gabe said in a small voice. “They could tranquilize me if I lose it.”

“Are you out of your mind!?” Matt got up and dusted himself off. “Look, no way. No way. I’m sure that would be very informative for Dr. Brown in a number of ways and that’s great and all, but I am not that kind of guy. Look, Gabe, I’m nervous enough about the whole thing as it is. I don’t think I’d . . . I’d even be able to, with people _watching_ me.”

“Look, we gotta try _something_.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure as heck not trying _that,_ ” Matt informed him. He walked over and snatched his rod and equipment up and started marching back toward the truck. 

Gabe hurried to get the rest of the stuff together and catch up to him. “Come on, Dutchy, wait up. Please?”

Matt stopped and waited, not turning around, his back stiff. He felt Gabe take his arm.

“I didn’t like the idea either, but I promised I’d at least bring the subject up for discussion.” Matt looked up at him. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Matt smiled a crooked smile and heaved a sigh. “Me, too.” They started to walk back to the car. They took the long way, around by some boulders, to try to avoid most of the bison. They seemed pretty relaxed, but it was better to be careful. Matt looked at his feet as they walked. “I just . . . don’t know how you could do something like that. Let’s face it, neither of us has even done that with another guy; do we really want to try to figure out what we’re doing with people watching?”

“Uh . . . actually, I have,” Gabe said in a small voice. Matt looked up in astonishment and tripped over a rock. Gabe caught his arm, keeping him from falling. 

“You have what? With people watching or . . . or with a guy?” Matt asked in a thin voice, straightening. 

Gabe shrugged uncomfortably. 

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“How come you never told me that before?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought you knew. And . . . I mean, it’s not really polite to talk about old girlfriends or boyfriends in front of a new one, is it?” Gabe said, looking apologetic.

“How many?” Matt asked stiffly. Gabe didn’t answer. Matt was starting to get upset, and he didn’t even know why. It’s not like he owned Gabe. Heck, he hadn’t even _wanted_ him at first. “Lots?” he asked. 

“Oh, God. Just . . . a few, okay? Does it really matter?”

“How many is a few? More girls or guys? Before . . . before you met me? I mean, before the bond?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Gabe said firmly. “All before the bond. Pretty equal amount. Yeah, I guess I’m . . .” Gabe took a deep breath, “kind of experienced. But . . . at least I do know what I’m doing, and I wouldn’t hurt you, and I could make it good, I promise.”

Matt was quiet. He had to rearrange some of what he thought he knew about Gabe in his head. He’d always known the guy was a womanizer, but not a . . . a _maninizer_ as well. That came as a shock. And on some level, Matt was selfishly unhappy about it. He’d been brought up in a small town with small town values, and had been very choosy about who he slept with in anticipation that the person he ended up with would be similar. Not a . . . a man-slut or whatever. 

“Dutchy, are you angry with me? It’s not like I knew I would meet you.”

“You knew you’d meet someone, though.”

“Not really. I mean, I kind of anticipated staying a bachelor. The whole marriage thing sounded pretty scary to me. I didn’t know that I would ever meet someone like you.”

Matt glanced at him in the dying light. Well, it did make him more interesting, if less perfect. Still, Matt couldn’t deny that the whole thing made him unhappy. 

“Dutchy . . . are you jealous?” Matt flushed. Gabe’s face lit up. “You _are!_ You’re jealous. You want me all to yourself. Awwwww. Well, you should have got your bid in sooner, sorry.”

Matt snorted. “Don’t _we_ think highly of ourselves?” 

Just then, a line of bison walked toward them at a brisk pace. They didn’t seem to notice the men, but they were clearly on a trail and that trail was _theirs,_ and Matt and Gabe were in the way. “Let’s step off that way,” Gabe suggested, nodding. They eased their way over to a cluster of rocks to let the animals past.

They stood quietly, waiting, as the bison lumbered by them in a long string of animals. Suddenly, one of them snorted and pawed at the dirt, stopping and eyeing them. Matt could see steamy breath rising from its wet nostrils. The thing was seven feet tall and had horns it could run right through a man.

Gabe sucked in his breath as the bison charged. Matt yelped and felt Gabe grab his arm, tugging him sharply to the side. “Run,” Gabe said shortly. 

They slipped between rocks just as the thing rushed them. They jinked and climbed over rocks, hearing the huff and snort of the huge animal. They dodged around the side of a boulder and peeked around it. The bison was still stomping the ground, snuffing angrily. 

Matt felt his heartbeat start to return to normal. “What the hell set him off?” he whispered, staring at the thing. “Why did it go after us?”

Gabe was crouched low, trying to get his breath. “Bison are assholes.”

Despite himself, Matt snickered. “Oh, yeah? Is that the, like, scientific explanation for its behavior?”

Gabe looked haughty. “You can laugh, but I happen to know for a fact that bison are very unpredictable and certainly kill or injure more people than a lot of wildlife that seem more dangerous. You can never tell when or why they’re going to decide it would be a good time to gore you. I’d rather deal with a bear, personally,” he added, risking another look over the boulder. The herd seemed to be moving away. “Trust me, bison are real assholes.”

Matt gaped at him. “Where’d you get all that, from Ranger Rick?”

“No. I read a book about bears.”

Matt let out a long breath. “You ever meet anyone who bonded to a bison?”

Gabe grinned at him. “Sure, Matt Cooke. But I hear he just makes them bigger assholes.”

Matt dissolved into laughter before getting control of himself. He looked at Gabe primly. “That’s mean. You know he’s a changed man.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

They risked another look around the rock. “Looks like the coast is clear,” Gabe announced. They got up and headed back to the truck. Before they got far, Matt heard a familiar snort and his blood turned to ice. “Oh, no,” he whispered. 

They turned their heads to see a bison—who knew if it was the same one—staring at them and shifting its weight in an anticipatory sort of way. Jesus above, it was so big it could probably run them both down in one go. It was the size of a bus! And they were fast, too. So fast that—it lowered its head and came at them. 

Just then, there was a roar from the scrub oak. It was so loud it was almost more terrifying than the beast in front of them, a snarl from the dawn of time. Matt nearly jumped out of his skin. The bison heard it, too, trying to maneuver its large head to see the threat. Something ghostly burst out of the bushes at speed, streaking toward the bison, low to the ground. 

“Holy shit! Come on,” Gabe ordered. He took Matt’s hand and hauled him toward the truck as fast as they could go. Matt heard the din behind him, the snarls and screeches and moans and thrashes of the dying bison as it was hauled down and strangled. 

Gabe threw open the truck door and all but threw Matt inside, then took off for the other door. Matt didn’t have the heart to tell him that the creature wasn’t a threat—not to _him._ Matt stared out the window at the hulk of the bison, still twitching. He felt like every sense was heightened, maybe due to the adrenaline rush, or maybe—he could see clearly even though night had pretty much fallen. He could smell the blood.

If he closed his eyes, he could taste it, too. 

Gabe climbed in beside him and locked the doors and they sat there, shaking. Finally they looked at each other. “Holy shit,” Gabe whispered. “How the hell did it follow us all the way up here?”

oOoOoOo

“Oh, _no,_ ” Matt groaned, looking at all the traffic. Centennial didn’t usually get like this. It was a nice, quiet little suburb with lots of open spaces. But on some days, Ikea messed everything up. When it first opened the resulting traffic had been horrific. Today it seemed even worse than that.

“What is going on?” Barrie wondered, staring around. 

Matt didn’t know. “You want to turn around?”

Barrie laughed. “With this traffic? At this point, it’s probably easier to just go ahead and soldier on.” He was probably right; Matt could see that even I-25 was at a standstill. He eased through the lanes and into the large parking garage. For some reason, there were fake leaves and flowers twined around the support columns. Heck, even some of the parked cars were decorated in gay flowers and colors. 

“Oh, God, it must be some kind of Swedish festival,” Matt moaned. “The place is going to be a zoo.” 

Barrie shrugged. “It sounds kind of fun, actually. I’ve never been to a Swedish festival. Adds a bit of adventure to your quest to buy new handles for your kitchen cupboards.”

“I should have gone to Loews,” Matt grumbled, but obligingly made his way to a parking spot. “This place is going to be packed,” he told Tyson.

Ty just grinned. “Let’s go get some meatballs and live it up.”

“Well . . . I _am_ kind of hungry,” Matt admitted. 

It was sort of neat to be there for a festival, even though Matt felt out of place, especially considering he was wearing ratty jeans and an old t-shirt in preparation for doing some home maintenance. 

There were little Swedish kids running here and there, dressed like it was Easter, giggling and holding balloons and stuff. 

One little girl ran over to Matt and Tyson and offered them flower garlands. “Er, thank you,” Matt said. She placed the flowers on his head and gestured for Tyson to lean down so she could do the same for him. 

“What’s all this for?” Tyson asked. 

“It’s St. John’s day!” the girl told them with a bubbly laugh. “Come dance with us at the maypole later!” She skipped away singing, “ _Kou ack ack ack, kou ack ack ack._ ”

Ty and Matt looked at each other with raised eyebrows. “Well, when in Rome . . .” Barrie said. 

“If you start skipping through Ikea singing _ack ack ack ack ack,_ I’m going to grab a maypole and hit you over the head with it,” Matt warned him. 

Ty just laughed. “While we’re here, I’m gonna keep an eye out for a new bedspread.”

First they stopped at the cafeteria to eat and people-watch. There was a pleasant holiday atmosphere, the food was discounted, and lots of people were standing around in groups singing traditional songs or just chatting and eating. The little kids were having a great time, and the adults were obviously enjoying a chance to get together, but there were also a few teens about, ones who probably hung out there all the time after school, but were now patently way too sophisticated and bored with all this Swedishness, and they mostly clustered about in little groups, trying to look disaffected, and occasionally shooting looks of embarrassment at the rest of their kin. 

Matt watched them. “Look how the teenagers want to pretend this has nothing to do with them,” he pointed out.

Tyson laughed. “Yeah, well, I can’t imagine living in another country all my life, my only connection to his home being this oversized, kitschy box store. I’d probably be mortified at that age, too.” 

Matt nodded. He prodded a meatball, thinking. “But there’s a lot more to it than that. Ikea isn’t just a store, it’s an institution. They work hard for the community and because of them and other organizations, those kids will also get grants to good schools, housing allowances and supplies, benefits to the sick and disabled . . . I mean, I get that it’s not really ‘cool,’ but someday those kids will be damned grateful for everything Ikea does. Ikea and the Vasa Order are really the reason there’s still a Sweden, you know?”

Ty shrugged. It was obviously a bit philosophical for him. “How do you know all this stuff, anyway?” Matt flushed. He’d picked it up from Gabe, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Ty didn’t push. “Come on. Let’s browse around and plan our dream home,” he joked. 

Matt let Tyson drag him all over—through all the living room stuff, the bathrooms, and all around the kitchens. Matt had to admit he liked the kitchens. The stuff might not always be the highest quality but the showrooms were a lot of fun. “I like this one,” he said. 

“Naw, I’d go for the slick all-black number,” Barrie disagreed. 

“But it’s so _soulless_ ,” Matt complained, looking around the sterile, austere countertops. There was a basket made of silver wires on the island and it was filled with fake red apples—the only pop of color in the whole place. 

“No, it’s not. It’s like . . . like modern art,” Ty countered. “Besides, it’s masculine and simple and really chic.”

There was a flash of light, and Matt blinked. His wrist had suddenly turned up the glow to a hundred and ten watts. Matt clutched it, glad that Barrie was too busy looking inside cupboards to notice. 

As Barrie turned around, Matt opened the fridge door and stuck his hand inside. “Maybe you’re right,” he croaked. “The fridge is pretty cool, anyway.”

“Yeah?” Ty wandered over.

“Well-but-I-mean-the-inside-is-the-same-as-any-fridge,” Matt blurted. “I just mean . . . um, the outside. The black color. That’s kind of cool. For a fridge.” He looked around desperately. How the heck could he hide this?

In another second, Gabe Landeskog rounded the corner. When he saw Matty his smile dialed up to a hundred and ten watts, just like the wrist writing. “Hey!” he said. 

“Hi.” Matt looked at him urgently. “Gabe, can I borrow your jacket?” as both Gabe and Ty looked at him with raised eyebrows, he cleared his throat. He could feel prickles of sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I’m really cold,” he said lamely, despite all evidence to the contrary. 

Gabe’s grin was really big, but his eyes were apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’ll work. See, if I give you my jacket, _I_ won’t have a jacket.” Matt instantly realized what he was saying; Gabe was also wearing a t-shirt and the jig would be up anyway if he took his jacket off. Damn. 

“Why does anyone need a jacket?” Barrie wondered. “It’s really hot in here!”

Matt glared at him. “I . . . I’m getting over a cold,” he said. 

“What are you guys doing here?” Gabe asked, distracting Barrie long enough for Matt to hunt around for something more suitable to hide his wrist. 

“Oh, we’re at that stage of our relationship where we’re going curtain-shopping,” Ty joked. 

Matt spotted an oven mitt. He grabbed it and put it on. Stupid as hell, but in a pinch . . . the look on Gabe’s face was one he wouldn’t soon forget, but he glared at the guy so ferociously that Landy managed to wipe the snickers away. 

“You and Matt, huh?” he said to Barrie, his eyes twinkling. “When’s the wedding?”

“No time like the present. June weddings are the best, right?” Ty asked Matt. 

“I don’t think we’re compatible. You dig this ugly black kitchen,” Matt answered, trying not to sound flustered. 

They began winding their way through the showroom again, Gabe now tagging along. He talked all about the festival and traditional activities. 

“Not gonna lie, it’s actually kind of a blast,” Barrie told him. 

Landy beamed his big, sunshiny grin. “It’s certainly amazing, isn’t it? All over the world right now, the Ikeas look just like this, filled with celebrating Swedes. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Crazy,” Matt said. 

“It’s the closest thing any Swede can come to being home. And today, anything you buy, half the profits go to assist parents with disabled children,” Gabe told them earnestly. 

“Great,” Barrie said. “Then I’ll definitely buy a blanket today. Heck, maybe I’ll grab a pillow, too.”

Matt snorted. “Look out, big spender in the house.” 

“Are you going to wear that all day?” Barrie asked, eyeing his oven mitt. 

“I’m cold,” Matt replied defensively. Still, the first time Ty wasn’t looking he took the oven mitt off and just held it in his hand in such a way that it still covered his wrist. He couldn’t think of anything else they carried at Ikea that he could use. Napkin rings? Those wouldn’t be big enough. Maybe he should buy a watch or something so this situation wouldn’t arise again. Damn Gabe for having such a long name, anyway. Too bad they didn’t sell watches at Ikea. He kind of envied the people who wore wedding bracelets. It was done because once the ceremony was held, the glow faded, and most people still wanted everyone to know they were ‘unavailable.’ Unfortunately, Matt couldn’t think of a reason for wearing one that wouldn’t net him exactly the same looks and questions. 

“Let’s go outside,” Gabe suggested. “I want to introduce you guys around.” Tables and chairs had been set up in the parking lot and the atmosphere was festive.

“You know these people?” Ty asked as they made their way through the crowd.

Gabe gave him a look. “You know what country has the most Swedish refugees?”

“Ha! I know this one. Somewhere in one of those cold countries, right?” Ty said. “Russia. I’ll go with Russia.”

Gabe looked out over the plains. “No. Here. America. By the year 1900, Chicago had the highest number of Swedes since Stockholm disappeared.”

“You guys are big in the midwest, I know that,” Matt said. 

“We _are_ the midwest,” Gabe pointed out. “We’re a big part of the fabric and culture of America.” Matt smiled at the pride in his voice.

Gabe introduced them to various people, like Andrea, a mother with about a dozen kids who treated Gabe like she was just one of her brood, and Samuel, an older man with a huge red beard who was drinking perhaps a bit too much and cried at some of the old songs, his tears dripping into his beard. 

The eventually found a table that overlooked I-25 and the plains to the east of the highway, where dozens of mammoths were grazing in a field ablaze with red flowers. Matt felt like it was kind of surreal, sitting there with the gigantic IKEA sign on the building at his back and a bunch of tranquil mammoths spread out in front of him. 

“Nice view,” Tyson remarked. 

Matt leaned back in his seat, sighing with satisfaction. “Hard to get a bad view in Colorado,” he said. 

“You like Colorado? I never would have guessed,” Barrie said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Matt’s shirt, which was emblazoned with the state flag. 

Matt just grinned, not rising to the bait. 

Gabe looked at the two of them happily. “You know, this has been a fun time, hanging with you guys.” He took off his jacket—it was just too hot out in the direct sun—and folded it over his arm carefully.

Barrie sipped his Färsköl beer meditatively. “Heck, I’ll come every year,” he said. “This is a blast.”

“Sure, we should make it a tradition,” Matt said. Gabe’s face lit up. Matt was set awash on a feeling of gratification. Matt looked around at all the celebrating Swedes. It struck him that this was an extremely important little slice of Gabe’s life, and he was glad to share it. Despite all their current disadvantages and tribulations, he found Swedes to be, in general, a happy and resilient people who worked hard to find a place for themselves in a difficult world. If it hadn’t been for the lion thing, he’d even be proud to call one his Mate. 

He took another long pull at his beer, gazing off at the plains without really seeing them. Gabe really wasn’t so bad if you took the lion out of the equation. He was funny and Matt always ended up feeling pretty good around him. Speaking of feeling good, it was starting to feel really hot outside, oven mitt or no. And to Matt’s discomfort, he was starting to feel weirdly turned on, which was an effect a group of goofy dancing Swedes shouldn’t have on him. He took another sip of his beer and glanced up at Gabe—and froze.

Gabe was staring intently at his mouth, which was pursed around the beer bottle. Gabe’s own lips were parted slightly, and his tongue darted out to wet his upper lip in a distinctly sensual way. Matt swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that his sexual arousal had come straight from his Mate. 

He set his beer bottle down on the flimsy folding table with a thunk and gave his Gabe a hard look.

Gabe looked surprised and squirmed a little, embarrassed at being caught out drooling over Matt. “Sorry,” he grunted. 

Barrie glanced at him. “For what?”

Gabe smiled brightly. “Sorry,” he repeated. “I’ve got to borrow Dutchy for a minute.” He grabbed Matt’s wrist. “Come on.”

Matt followed him reluctantly, thinking he would lead him to somewhere more private and apologize for ogling, but instead Gabe led him right out into the middle of the parking lot, where a cross-shaped pole wrapped with leaves was being raised. “Where are we going?” Matt asked. 

Gabe’s grin was pure cheese. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to do the dance of my people!”

Matt balked. “What? No way.” He tried to pull loose. “Oh, come on, you big dork, I’m not going to skip around the maypole. This is crazy!” But Gabe wouldn’t turn loose, and he was sure strong. He tugged his unwilling Mate along, Matt laughing and protesting in equal measures. 

“Nope, not getting out of it. I’m the captain and what I say goes,” Gabe joked. 

Matt was dragged into a circle of Swedes and found himself linking hands with Gabe on one side and a woman on the other, and yes, sort of skipping, and laughing hysterically, and flushed with embarrassment. After a few mortifying times around the gaily festooned pole, Gabe finally turned him loose. 

“I can’t believe you made me do that,” Matt said, still cracking up as they stumbled away from the dancers.

Gabe threw an arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. “Thanks,” he murmured in Matt’s ear. 

Matt just grinned crookedly.

When they returned to the rickety little folding table at the edge of the parking lot, Tyson was laughing so hard Matt thought his stupid little chair would collapse. “Very suave, Dutchy,” he managed to choke out. He wiped his eyes. “Keep that up and you’ll be able to try out to be one of Beyonce’s backup dancers in a year or ten.”

“Thank you,” Matt replied, taking a good-natured bow. “I’m glad my moves entertained you so much.”

Ty let out a long, long breath, as if he’d laughed so hard his diaphragm needed a rest or something. “I got some great shots of it, too.”

“Oh, _outstanding_.” Matt rolled his eyes, but accepted Barrie’s cell phone. As he glanced at the first picture, his blood ran cold. He gulped hard. “You didn’t . . . didn’t share this with anyone yet, did you?” he asked in a thin voice. 

Barrie put his hands up. “It’s cool,” he said. “I figured you might not want that out there, so no.”

Gabe’s smile turned puzzled. “What’s wrong?” Matt awkwardly showed him the picture. He and Gabe looked like gleeful nerds, legs kicking, laughing so hard they could barely stand up. And above their clasped hands were two obviously glowing marks. “Oh,” Gabe said. He looked at Matt searchingly. 

Matt, in turn, looked at Tyson—grimly. “You’re not going to tell anyone,” he said, his voice hovering somewhere between a question and an instruction. 

Barrie shook his head. “Of course not. You can count on me. I’m clutch. Like I said, it’s cool. Besides, it’s not like I didn’t notice anything between you two.”

Matt’s mouth dropped open. Oh, no. Was it the way Gabe undressed him with his eyes? Or had Matt, in an unguarded moment, failed to smother a lovesick look of his own? “You—you noticed?” 

“Well, I mean, come on. Gabe shows up and you put an _oven mitt_ on? I mean, what the fuck, Matty. Not terribly subtle. I was like . . . well, for a split second I was confused, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize you were trying to cover up someone’s name. And it’s only going to be obvious when you’re near your Mate, and since _I_ didn’t suddenly break out in a case of wrist-writing, I figured . . .” Ty shrugged and sipped his beer. “But like I said, it’s totally cool, Dutchy. If anyone’s given you shit about it, that really sucks, but I promise I wouldn’t do that.”

Matt exchanged a look with Gabe. “We appreciate your understanding,” the suddenly serious Swede told Barrie. “And I hope you’ll keep this just between us.”

The look in Barrie’s dark eyes was sort of sad. “Sure, if you want. But the team will have your back, just so you know. I mean, I think so, anyway.”

“Thanks.”

Ty tapped his fingers on the table. “So . . . I hope you invite me to the ceremony, or I’ll be real put out,” he teased. 

“First on our list,” Matt promised with a grin.

“You gonna hold it soon?”

“We just have to work a few things out first.” At those words, he felt an upsurge of hope come from Gabe and had to turn away to keep from making eye-contact. Jeez, why did the guy have to make him feel like a blushing schoolgirl? The worst part about being in love, he thought, was the innate uncool-ness it brought on. 

“Does anyone want some pickled herring?” Gabe offered. “I can get us some plates. It’s really good.” 

Matt made a face, but Ty said, “Sure, I’ll try just about anything once.” When Gabe was gone, Ty leaned forward. “So, uh, is everything okay?”

Matt looked over at Gabe, piling stuff onto plates at a nearby buffet, talking and laughing with the other people in line, being his usual goofy self. Maybe sometimes it was okay to be uncool. God knew he wasn’t especially good at it anyway. Matt smiled. “No, everything isn’t okay. Not yet. Not exactly. But it will be,” he said.

Barrie looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

“I’m still getting used to it,” Matt said dryly. 

The woman Gabe had introduced them to earlier as Andrea sat down at their table with a plate. “I hope you boys are enjoying our festivities,” she told them. 

“Sure, we’re having a great time,” Tyson assured her. 

“How long have you known Gabe?” Matt asked. 

“Oh, years,” she laughed. “We fika together when he can spare the time for it. The kids just love him.”

Matt watched Gabe at the buffet table, where he was signing an autograph for an excited little boy. Then there was laughter and Gabe scooped the kid up, pretending to use him to do curls while the boy giggled uncontrollably. Gabe seemed to be having just as much fun as the kid, and Matt couldn’t help grinning too. 

“Too light!” he heard Gabe shout. “I need more weight! Get me more kids!” In seconds he was surrounded by a bunch of giddy children, all begging to be picked up and pumped like iron, and soon Gabe had a six year-old hanging from each arm as he did curls, laughing. Matt had to admit his arms looked great though; he was wearing a muscle shirt and it was obvious that he was in good shape. 

Andrea was still telling Tyson about the festival. “It’s a time of magic,” she told him. “If you go to a meadow and collect flowers, you can place a bouquet under your pillow and dream of your future Mate.”

Tyson, looking over at Matt, laughed. “Some of us need that more than others,” he said with a snort. 

A sudden shadow passed over them and Ty looked up and gasped. A giant bird with a twelve foot wingspan wafted on the breeze. 

“Oh, shit, it’s got a kid!” Tyson shouted, jumping to his feet.

Andrea glanced up and hooted with laughter. “That’s just old Oskar, my giant vulture. He keeps an eye on the little ones for me and prevents them from running into the street.” Oskar wheeled around in the sky and they heard shrieks of laughter floating from above. A minute later he deposited a sticky-faced little girl beside Andrea.

“I want one of those,” Tyson breathed. 

“A Teratorn?” Andrea replied. “Well, you know. They’re ugly, but practical.”

Matt looked at Barrie. “You want a big ugly _buzzard? Really?_ ” Barrie hadn’t Quickened yet, but if Matt was any judge, it wouldn’t be long. He’d seen the guy change a lot over the last year. He even carried himself differently. He was on the verge, Matt could just tell. 

Barrie laughed. “It’s still cuter than you are, Dutchy. Anyway, it’s better than a fish, am I right?”

Matt shrugged. Erik Johnson’s spirit animal was a sabertooth salmon, and E.J. had to construct his own lake for Toby, the one who’d swam upstream to meet him at his Quickening. E.J. never had any complaints about it. The fish, he claimed, helped him with quick reflexes and adaptability. “You’ll get what you’re meant to get,” he told Barrie. He wasn’t sure he believed it anymore, though. Maybe sometimes you didn’t. How else did you explain Gabe and the lion?

Finally Gabe brought the plates back. “Sorry. I got sidetracked.”

“I could see that,” Matt replied. “You were too busy showing off for your groupies.”

Gabe laughed and handed Barrie his plate. 

Andrea turned to him. “The kids are a bit over-stimulated. The younger ones are coming up on their nap time; I should get them home. You want to leave with us?”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll just take the light rail; you go ahead,” Gabe told her.

“You sure?”

“Probably for the best. I’d just rile them up more anyway.”

“God knows that’s true,” Andrea said with a round laugh. She got up slowly and thumped him on the back. “Take care,” she said, and, “Nice meeting you,” she added to Matt and Tyson before going to round up her brood. 

“She was your ride?” Matt asked casually. At Gabe’s nod Matt said, “Oh. Well, I could give you a ride home. I’ll just have to drop Ty off first.”

“That’d be great.”

The both ignored Barrie’s knowing laugh. 

oOoOoOo

As they pulled into the parking garage at Gabe’s building he looked over uncertainly at Matt. He unclasped his seatbelt and said diffidently, “Uh, you wanna come up for a drink or something?”

Matt shrugged. “Why not?” he replied, more coolly than he felt. He took off his seatbelt and followed Gabe inside to the elevator. Gabe felt giddy. Matt could feel his happiness from the festival and having spent the day with his Mate. 

As they waited for the elevator to carry them up—Gabe had made his home in one of the few high rises in Denver, despite the extreme expense to keep it heated—Gabe smiled at Matt. “You seem really . . . chill,” he said. 

“Do I?” Matt didn’t admit that he’d been practicing yoga stuff with O’Reilly. He wasn’t sure about actual stretches, but he’d found immediate use for being able to keep zen about things. It was good for a bad day on the ice and better when he got mixed up about Gabe. 

“You want a beer or something?”

“Sure.”

“Or . . . I got some merlot,” Gabe offered hopefully. 

“Sounds good.”

Gabe was elated as he went to pour the drinks. He brought them into the living room and handed one to Matt. “So . . .”

Matt tried to think of something to say. He kept getting distracted by Gabe’s arms. Last year he would not have found them so attractive. Right now he kinda wanted to know what it would be like to lick Gabe’s bicep. Jesus. “Um. So why did you insist on buying such an expensive place?” he asked, forcing himself to look away. “This place is seriously not eco-friendly, you know.” In these days of harsh weather, energy resources were hard to come by. Anyone who bought a place like this was going to pay taxes out the nose. 

Gabe just grinned, though. “I know it’s not cheap,” he said, “But I think it’s worth it for the view.” He went over to the big picture windows that faced west and pulled back the blinds. The mountains went on forever, and Matt caught his breath. The sky was the color of happiness—the clear blue of a child’s Saturday morning just waiting to be packed with fun or, in Matt’s case, a day on the pond. And the air was so clear that Matt could count the folds in the mountains, riveted by the shadows and the sparkle of light reflecting off the snow on the highest peaks. 

“It is pretty special,” Matt admitted. 

Gabe dropped onto the sofa with a sigh and motioned for Matt to take a seat. “So. This is nice,” he said. 

“Yeah.” The conversation came in fits and starts. 

“So, no more Sacco. Crazy, huh?” Gabe said. Matt still couldn’t believe Sacco had been sacked. It was like his prayers had been answered. The day he’d got the call he’d actually cried. He’d just shut himself off in his bedroom for an hour and fucking lost it. Afterward he’d felt a lot better, but he didn’t have any clue why it had such an effect on him. He talked to Dr. Brown about it, who very gently hinted that sometimes he wasn’t the greatest at being in touch with his emotions and that by denying them he only gave them more power. Whatever. The little meltdown had been cathartic, and he was sure Sacco would be pleased that he’d managed to give Matt one last nervous breakdown before departing into the sunset. “That’s going to be pretty great, isn’t it?”

“Amen. And Patrick. _Patrick Roy_ , the new head coach.” Matty shook his head in wonder. 

Gabe laughed and Matt glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Nothing. It’s just . . . for a second you were as excited as a little boy.”

Matt blushed. “Well, it’s exciting,” he said defensively. 

“Yeah, I know. I wonder how things will go this season. Pretty great, I should think. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Yeah. You betcha. Things are going to turn around for us,” Matt said. “I can feel it in my bones.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Matt swallowed. He stared out at the mountains but he was aware that, beside him, Gabe was mooning over him, giving him those gaga looks he did whenever they were alone together. Gabe’s affection was making him think about weird things, like how much he liked Gabe’s arms, and how he could feel the heat radiating from the man’s body. The simple physical closeness of his body was starting to make Matt feel flustered and his stomach all fluttery. “Um, I had a good time today.”

“Me, too,” Gabe agreed. He settled down a bit. “It was pretty special to have you there for that,” he said hoarsely. He was silent for awhile before adding, “You know, my family is all spread out now. My parents, brother and sister, everyone, living in different cities, different countries. It makes you feel disconnected from yourself, like you have no roots. So it’s nice, to be reminded what it is to be Swedish.”

Matt thought that over. Losing Haliburton wasn’t the same as Gabe’s loss. He knew Gabe’s family got together—they had plans together for later in the summer, in fact—but the impact of losing a whole country was really big. It probably affected Gabe more than he usually let on, being a brud and all that. 

Matt frowned, tracing a finger over the rim of his glass. “What was it like, growing up? You lived in Europe, right?”

“Yeah, but I always knew I’d come to America as soon as I could. I wanted to play in the NHL.”

“Did you go to a European school?”

“Nope, a brud school. Um, sorry. A school for refugees. Mostly Swedes, a few Finns. We moved around a bit but my parents made sure we stayed with other Swedes as much as possible.”

“So you could hold on to your heritage?”

“That and because it’s dangerous otherwise. Refugees are not very popular, and I think they were a little afraid we might get attacked. But you’re right, they did want us to learn our heritage. We didn’t even speak English in school, even when we lived in the U.K.”

Matt’s forehead wrinkled. “How did you learn to speak English, then?”

“Oh, they taught us English, but we didn’t speak it outside of class. Not much, anyway. I did. I learned as much as I could as fast as I could. Especially English. I worked hard and got good grades.”

Matt smiled a little. He tended to think of Gabe as this big, dumb goober, but he wasn’t really dumb at all. His English was at least as good as Matt’s. “You’re pretty good,” Matt told him. He had never really thought about it before, but Gabe even tweeted in perfect English most of the time, with correct punctuation and everything. “You barely even have an accent.”

Gabe smiled modestly. “That’s mostly ‘cuz I got teased a lot at first. I had to lose it as fast as possible to fit in.”

“Really?”

“I hate being teased like that.”

That was weird. So weird. Gabe was usually so unselfconscious and secure in himself. Way, way more than Matt. It was strange to think of Gabe when he was younger, coming to America and feeling shy and wanting to work so hard to fit in. He seemed to have lost most of his shyness though. That was a big part of being the captain—talking to reporters and stuff. Gabe loved that. 

Taking a deep breath, Matt turned to Gabe, looking him over. He was a big, strong guy, but by now the bond had gone on long enough that Matt liked the thought of being with such a big, strong guy. His shirt was too tight, but that only made Matt want to reach out and trail a hand over the swell of a pectoral. He’d obviously already started getting in shape over the summer. Everything about him was rock hard. 

Gabe was looking at him like he couldn’t figure out what Matt was thinking. Matt took a drink of his wine and Gabe followed suit. Matt was beginning to feel a pleasant buzz. Good, that would make things easier. He finished off his glass and poured himself another as Gabe looked on in surprise. “In a hurry to polish off the bottle?” he asked, eyes twinkling. 

“I thought it might help relax us,” Matt explained. 

Gabe looked from Matt’s glass to his face and back again. A sudden look of understanding bloomed. “Oh. Oh! Sure, let’s relax,” he said, swigging his wine and pouring another glass. “I have more wine if we need it,” he said. 

Matt laughed. He sat back down on the sofa, much closer to Gabe this time, and Gabe sucked in a breath, stiffening a little like he was worried he’d scare Matt off. “No, uh, liony thoughts happening?” Matt asked. 

“Not yet,” Gabe said. “I wish I could warn you when it happened, but it usually comes through slowly. Like I’m . . . enjoying being near you, and getting turned on, and I’m thinking that I like the way you smell, and then it, uh, sort of starts to go to hell from there.”

Matt laughed. Gabe looked at him, waiting patiently. He had the bluest eyes Matt had ever seen. And that mouth . . . as if he realized Matt was staring at it, Gabe licked his lips and Matt had to shut his eyes. That tongue. That was _another_ thing Matt had never expected to like the sight of this much. He wished the biting wasn’t such an issue, because he was dying to experience more of that wet, slick mouth. Gabe was an awfully good kisser.

He blew out a long breath. “Gabe, I have an idea.” Gabe nodded. “You know Dr. Brown said intimacy might be our problem. Well, obviously I don’t want to do this in some lab. But I was thinking there might be a way to make you, uh . . . safer,” he swallowed hard, “without that.”

“Okay,” Gabe said slowly. “What do you want to do?” 

Matt could feel his face growing warm. Fuck. He took another drink. And another. He set down his glass and turned to Gabe, his body tense. “I was thinking I could tie you up,” he blurted. “Like maybe if I tied you to the bed or something, you wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”

Gabe stared at him for a long, long time, and Matt bit his lip. He was going to call Matt a freak and then— “ _Wow!_ Okay, yes, let’s do that,” Gabe said excitedly. 

“Y—yeah?” Matt looked at him uncertainly, wondering if he really meant it. 

“Not gonna lie, that kind of sounds like a good time anyway,” Gabe confessed, and Matt had to laugh a little, relieved. 

Matt let out a shaky breath. “No one _ever_ hears about this,” he warned Gabe. 

“Sure. No, I mean, whatever you say.”

Matt finished off his glass. “Okay, I think we should probably tie you up before, um, before we really start anything. Because it seems to come out when we’re least expecting it, and I don’t want to get taken by surprise.”

Gabe nodded, trying to look very solemn, but he couldn’t help shifting in his seat, and Matt could tell he was getting all kinds of turned on. “Yes, that works. What are we going to use for, um, restraints? Usually this is the sort of thing you buy specially, you know. Because otherwise there could be chafing or you can cut off circulation and stuff.”

Matt was taken aback. “Well, er, in the first place, I don’t really want it getting out that Matt Duchene buys bondage gear. Not really sure what that would do to my good little Canadian boy image,” he admitted. “And anyway, I don’t exactly want to wait to get all the right stuff, do you?” Gabe shook his head hard and Matt laughed. “Okay. So we’ll just have to improvise and I’ll have to be careful, that’s all.”

“Okay. I’ve got, like, belts and things.”

“Sounds okay,” Matt replied, ears hot. “I mean, I don’t think we need to go crazy with it anyway. Just. Like. Uh, hands and feet to the bedposts, type of thing?” he suggested, hearing his voice climb a little with embarrassment. 

Gabe didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were dark with lust and he nodded, looking sort of dazed. “But I want to tie you to the bed, too.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Just . . . someday. Not now, obviously. But if we ever get things straightened. It’s only fair, Dutchy,” he added stubbornly when Matt just stared at him. 

“Holy God,” Matt muttered. “Fine, whatever. We’ll save that discussion for another day. Should we . . . should we head to the bedroom?”

Gabe got up with alacrity, sloshing a little of his wine over the rim. “Sure, yes, let’s go.”

Matt grabbed another bottle of wine and followed him to the bedroom, which was mercifully dark enough that Gabe probably wouldn’t see how red his face was going to be throughout this whole ordeal. 

“I’ll find some belts. Make yourself at home,” Gabe said, disappearing into the closet. 

Matt ditched the glass, kicked off his shoes and socks, and began drinking right from the bottle. He meditated on the waves of eager arousal that radiated from Gabe. It was sort of heady. Matt hoped this would work. When the season was on, it wasn’t too bad, not having sex, because you already spent so much of your energy on the game. But as the summer lingered, Matt had grown frustrated. He thought more and more about Gabe, what it would be like to go to bed with him. More frequently, he’d thought of Gabe while masturbating, imagining that perfect mouth wrapped around his cock, or Gabe’s enthusiastic tongue exploring him—all over. 

Matt let out a long breath and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. 

Gabe came out of the closet holding a whole bunch of belts. His hair was mussed. “We might have to add some holes or adjust them or whatever.”

“Got a hammer and nail?” 

Gabe nodded. He felt anxious, as well as turned on.

“Good,” Matt told him. He swigged the bottle of wine. “This will be . . . good.”

oOoOoOo

Matt sat back on his haunches, surveying his handiwork. “I think it looks pretty secure,” he said. Gabe had at least two belts for each hand and ankle. And his bed frame was metal, so that was good. Matt tested one of the belts and found it pretty taut. This was not how he imagined his home improvement project day going, but you had to roll with it.

“Feels pretty good,” Gabe said. 

“Try getting loose,” Matt suggested. 

Gabe strained. Nothing happened, other than Matt starting to salivate over the sudden definition in Gabe’s muscles. “Nope. Nothing doing. You did a really good job, Matty.”

Matt blushed. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “Thanks. Apparently tying guys to the bed is one of those dormant talents I have that was just waiting to blossom.”

Gabe laughed. 

Matt sighed. Gabe was naked, tied to his bed, and looking at Matt expectantly. Matt swallowed hard. 

“You okay?” Gabe said gently. Jesus. Even lashed to the bed he was totally chill. That was why he was the captain, Matt realized. He just oozed _it’ll be okay,_ no matter how crazy the situation was. Which made the lion thing even weirder. It just didn’t make sense for Gabe to have this insane, aggressive spirit inside him.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Matt took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and called on the strength of his mastodons, just for a moment, just to calm himself. He immersed himself in the herd, letting their placid serenity sink in. When he was totally in control he looked down at Gabe with renewed interest. “So where should I start?” 

Gabe raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Your choice,” he told Matt in a husky voice. 

Matt looked him up and down. Every last inch of him was smoking hot, and his prick was stiff even before he’d got Gabe undressed. Matt reached out and trailed a finger over an abdominal muscle, making it twitch. 

He looked up at Gabe, who gave him a crooked, sort of embarrassed grin. 

“The tables have kinda turned now, huh?” Matt joked. “Feel like I should have been practicing my evil laugh or something.”

“Oh, jeez,” Gabe said with a groan. 

“What? I’m not allowed to be a dork? You’re doofy practically all the time,” Matt pointed out. He ran his hand contemplatively up and down Gabe’s body. This was actually really pretty great. He got to touch Gabe as much as he wanted, got to glory in all that sexy muscle, and all Gabe could do was sit there all helpless. The whole situation appealed to the control freak in him.

Matt dragged both hands down Gabe’s torso, fingertips thrilling at that warm skin, feeling Gabe’s breath hitch under Matt’s fingertips. Yeah, this was kinda nice. He stroked a hand down Gabe’s thigh which was, yes, as strong as he’d imagined, not a spare ounce of fat anywhere on the guy. 

“Dutchy . . .” Gabe’s voice came out in a whisper, full of need. 

Matt crawled up the bed to lean down and risk a kiss or two. It was good. It was better than good, feeling Gabe’s delighted tongue play with his own. Matt brushed a hand over his cheek, dragging a hand down to explore his body. Was he comfortable with the idea of touching Gabe’s cock? He wasn’t sure, be he did anyway, feeling gratified when it pulsed in his hand, greedy for his touch. Gabe moaned softly against his lips. 

He pulled back to look down at Gabe, who looked a little wild, his breath coming in shaky little gasps. His face was flushed, his eyes dilated, his mouth open. He looked completely vulnerable and almost undone. 

Matt was totally fascinated. He felt incredibly powerful and a little bit scared of that. For all that he hated the lion, sometimes he felt those urges too, like the lion was in _him_ as well, and he worried, just for a second, that he might be capable of taking too much, of destroying Gabe the same way the lion drove Gabe to try to destroy him. 

But then he shook it off. He knew what he was. He was a mastodon, practical and solid. And anyway, he had much better things to do than worry about esoteric stuff like that. Gabe was spread out under him like a banquet, for fuck’s sake. 

Matt smirked. Gabe’s eyebrows shot up, but Matt stole the question with the tip of his tongue. He didn’t stop kissing Gabe until the man was moaning into his mouth. Then he slid down, kissing his jaw, licking his strong chin and feeling Gabe writhe and heave under him, whimpering a little. 

“Oh, _God_ , Dutchy,” Gabe breathed. 

Matt tortured the guy by going as slow as his own libido would allow, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses all over his body, skimming his tongue along each sharply defined muscle and indentation of skin. 

“Matt. Oh, Matt. The lion,” Gabe gasped. 

Matt sat up right away, staring at him. Gabe’s eyes were shut tightly, like he was trying to flinch away from something. Matt caressed his chest. “Talk to me,” he murmured. 

Gabe shook his head. “Don’t know how to explain it,” he choked. “Just—urges. I can feel something changing, deep down inside. It’s like I want to scream. Want to say it so loud the whole world rings. Want to roar, say you’re mine, _mine,_ no one else can have you. No one else can touch you.” Gabe was sweating now. “I don’t want to hurt you, just want to own you. Just want to—” he broke off sharply. 

Matt waited, but he seemed to be holding steady. “Want me to stop?” he asked tensely. 

Gabe shook his head without saying anything. His body was trembling a little, taut as a bow ready to loose an arrow.

Matt wished he knew a way to—to steal Gabe away from the lion. He drew one finger down Gabe’s stomach. Gabe groaned. There was a wet streak on his abdomen where the head of his prick had smeared pre-come. Taking a deep breath, Matt leaned over and licked him, running the flat of his tongue up the underside of Gabe’s cock, and Gabe stiffened. 

“Oh, God, Dutchy, _yes_.” That was hopeful. “Please, Dutchy,” he begged, and Matt began to suck him. 

To his surprise, the very act made him harder too—maybe part of it was the surge of arousal Gabe felt, but Matt had to admit, in the privacy of his own head, that he just plain fucking liked it. He bobbed his head, his own hand drifting down to squeeze the bulge in his pants. 

“Don’t want to hurt you,” Gabe was breathing. “Just want to fuck you.” 

Matt explored the head of Gabe’s prick with the tip of his tongue, marveling out how quick the guy was losing control. 

“Just want to fuck you,” Gabe repeated. Even with the restraints, he managed to thrust into Matt’s mouth. “Want to mount you,” he said in a voice that ached. “Want to take you. From behind. Bite you. Bite you while I fuck you. Want to—”

There was a snapping sound, and Matt drew off immediately. 

_Holy shit._ One of Gabe’s arms was free, the busted leather straps dangling from his wrist. He must have internally called on the lion’s physical strength. Feral. You weren’t supposed to do that, normally, because the human body wasn’t made for it. You could rip your own tendons and shit.

“Dutchy. Matt. I _need_ —” 

Matt ran into the bathroom. He found a cup under the sink and filled it up. He hurried back into the bedroom, where Gabe was straining to break loose, his eyes dark and cold at the same time, inhuman, animal eyes. Steadying himself, Matt tossed the cold water in Gabe’s face and the man jerked. 

“Better?”

Gabe blinked a little. 

Matt heaved a sigh. He slapped Gabe, hard. “Gabe. _Wake up,_ ” he ordered. 

Gabe was shaking, but he seemed to be coming back to himself. He eased back against the pillows. “Sorry, Matty.” 

“Not your fault,” Matt told him. He petted Gabe’s hair. “Look, you just take some deep breaths, okay? I going to go call Dr. Brown. I’ll see if I can get her to give you something to help you calm down and get some sleep.”

Gabe stared at the wall, his eyes distant. Matt could feel the anguish. He wished he could do something to help, but what was he supposed to do? He’d tried everything. 

He went to get his phone. So much for feeling like things could only get better. That was the thing about bad luck; things could always just stay the same.


	4. September 12, 2013: Patrick Roy’s Aggressive Cock

Patrick Roy’s spirit animal was a rooster. Matt noticed it first thing, because the man walked into the rink with one tucked under his arm. There was an undercurrent of amusement at this, quiet snickers from the team. Roy ignored them. He carried the thing over to the bench and let it perch on the boards. It looked at the players curiously, darting its head this way and that. 

“Patrick Roy’s spirit animal is a chicken?” someone said in disbelief.

Matt, who had read the man’s biography cover to cover and memorized bits of it, spoke up; “It’s a rooster.”

E.J. gave a wide, gap-toothed grin. “No, I think it’s pronounced, ‘Wahhh-ster.’”

Everyone laughed, even Roy. “Good try,” he said. “It is what is called a voiced uvular fricative . . . maybe I do a pop quiz later, eh?” He grinned at his new team. “But actually, his name is His Royal Highness, Mon Tabernac Jva Te Décalisser La Yeule, Calice.” There was a burst of laughter from the players who spoke French, although Matt thought Giguère looked a little scandalized. “But you can call him Tabernac. Don’t get too close. He peck you.”

Matt elbowed P.A. and muttered, “What’s it mean?”

P.A. wiggled a hand to indicate it was only an approximation and said, “Basically? It mean, _Motherfucker, I’mma fuck you up as fuck._ ” Matt chuckled. He wondered if Vernon or Osgood’s spirit animals were similar. He wondered if they’d ever had a go at each other.

Patrick went on, talking about partnerships and turning over a new leaf. It all sounded pretty good. He was hitting the right notes. Then they did some drills. It felt great. Patrick laughed easily and talked to each of them like he was just one of the guys. And he praised Matt, too. 

“You got some speed there, I like that,” he said at one point, grinning.

Matt grinned back, so giddy he couldn’t actually talk. Here was Patrick Roy, _Patrick Roy_ of all people, telling him he had game. The six year old in him could have flown to the moon. 

Roy gathered them around, told them to call him Patrick, told them not to be scared to ask questions. “I don’t like the dump-and-chase,” he told them. “We gonna work hard, but we are gonna have fun, too. Because when you guys are having fun?” Patrick pointed to the stands. “Then the people up there gonna be having fun, as well. So we are gonna work hard, we are gonna be fast, and we are going to have a Stanley Cup mentality,” he told them, enunciating the last few words carefully. “Eh? What you think, huh?” The team hooted and hollered. “Good.” 

Afterward Matt hung around the new coach, just basking in his confidence. “You really think we’ll be any good?” he asked. 

“I think you are good all along. I think maybe the type of style you play, maybe that did not always come through,” Patrick told him sagely. 

Matt noticed Gabe watching him from across the rink, grinning. For some reason it made Matt’s ears heat up. Just what did he think was so funny, anyway? Then for some reason Gabe and Downie got into some sort of tussle. He could feel Gabe’s annoyance, and for some reason that made Matt angry too, like he wanted to march right over and ask Downie what the hell his problem was. Before he could say anything, Patrick waded into things. He talked in an undertone to Downie, but the guy looked stubborn. Whatever the hell his problem was, he wasn’t backing down.

Gabe came over and stood by Matt. “What’s up?”

Matt nodded to the exchange. “What happened?”

“Not sure. Guy has a problem.” They watched Roy and Downie discuss things. 

“Patrick—er, Roy didn’t call him out or anything. Sacco would have called him out, made him sweat. Maybe benched him. Roy handled it privately. That’s kind of cool of him.” Matt noticed Gabe was grinning at him again. “What?”

“Teacher crush?” Gabe suggested, and Matt flushed. 

“Shut up, you ass.” This failed to wipe the grin off Gabe’s face.

“You know you can’t hide it. Your feelings are my feelings.” _Oh, shit_. “Should I be worried that you’re gonna run off with him?”

Matt ducked his head, trying to hide his red face behind a glove. 

“Not gonna lie, it makes me feel a bit jealous.” Matt risked a quick look to see if he was serious. “But I can’t get too mad, ‘cuz you’re kinda cute like this,” Gabe added. 

_In-fucking-sufferable,_ Matt thought. Gabe gave him an affectionate nudge and Matt scowled. “You lunkhead; cool it off, would you? I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do that at . . . you know, work.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Gabe looked around. “I guess it just doesn’t feel like work today.”

Matt couldn’t quash a grin. “No, it sure doesn’t, does it?” 

They watched as Downie gave Tabernac a poke. The rooster went off like a bomb, squawking and flapping and making for his face as Steve beat a hasty retreat. Patrick Roy skated over to them, shaking his head. “I _tell_ him he better not try to touch my cock,” he said. 

Matt and Gabe nearly fell over, they laughed so hard. Patrick just grinned that same smug grin he always had, blue eyes crinkled at the corners, enjoying the attention.

Later, when Matt and Gabe were leaving practice, Matt turned curiously. “Say, do you know what Joe Sacco’s spirit animal is?”

Gabe shook his head. “You?”

“He didn’t say. He never said, did he?” It was weird. From big Cody McLeod and his dainty little deer mouse to Joe Sakic and his stately stag-moose, Matt was used to everyone’s spirit animals being a part of their everyday lives. Except for Gabe’s lion, of course. 

“I get the feeling things are certainly going to be different around here with Roy as a coach,” Gabe said.

Matt smiled. “Yeah. I think things will finally turn around for us.”

oOoOoOo

That night Matt was in bed early, reading Ken Dryden’s _The Game,_ when he found his thoughts drifting to Landy.

The guy had shown a lot of energy at practice, psyching everyone up, showing why he was the captain by hitting hard and following through. It was kind of inspiring actually. And a bit of a turn on. Matt squirmed uncomfortably, trying not to go down that road. He told himself that forechecking wasn’t the same as foreplay, but he wasn’t sure he believed it.

It had been a great day. Everyone was upbeat, everyone was happy. Gabe had actually got the guys to sing in the shower, old songs, from Backstreet Boys all the way back to stuff that came out in the sixties. Matt wouldn’t have expected the guys to go along with that, but they were popular songs and everyone knew the words and even E.J. seemed totally jazzed to sing back up lyrics to Gabe’s pop-star persona. 

Gabe, standing there with water coursing deliciously down his naked body, had thrown a wink at Matt. _“What do you say, Dutchy? Want to be in a boy band?”_

NHL pros, all of them, and yet the entire room seemed to be full of giggling schoolboys, from baby-faced Nate MacKinnon on up to grizzled old vets like Jiggy. They were having fun again. 

Matt smiled as he thought about it. 

Gabe had looked awfully good in that shower, too, no matter how hard Matt tried not to look. He tried not to think of it _now_ in fact, tried to focus on his book, on learning what made great players great. He tried to focus on hockey. Usually that was so _easy_ ; he did it without thinking. He thought hockey pretty much all the time, the subject ticking over in the back of his skull. He thought about the ice, about his hands, about his passing, about his feet. 

Tonight his brain didn’t want any hockey. It wasn’t interested. It kept straying back to _Gabe’s_ hands, _Gabe’s_ feet, and most of all, it kept replaying slow-motion images of Gabe’s naked torso with water cascading over it. 

Dammit. 

Feeling hot and embarrassed and turned on as hell, Matt tossed the book on the nightstand and flicked off his lamp. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, tried not to think about Gabe—or anything much, for that matter—and reached down beneath the covers. 

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it out of his head. He could picture Gabe grinning at him, winking at him, showing off for him. Gabe hadn’t done or said anything untoward, but he still managed to flirt with Matt, subtly, a lot.

And no matter what Matt said, he liked the attention. 

Gabe knew a thousand ways to get to Matt. 

Hell, he wasn’t even here now and he was getting to Matt, making him remember all the nudges and arch looks and, most of all, how Gabe would look at him sometimes and lick his lips, tongue dragging over his teeth. 

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, picturing that wet tongue. He began to stroke himself, trying to imagine Gabe’s hand—Gabe’s big, square hand—his blood thrummed at the thought of it, of Gabe coming up behind him in the shower, arms around him, jerking him off. Matt’s head fell to the side a little as he imagined the scruff of Gabe’s beard grazing the back of his neck in that hair-raising, shivery way, the way that turned him on the most. The thought of it made a strangled little whimper of pleasure rise from his throat. 

Suddenly, the phone rang, and Matt snatched it up and answered on reflex. “Yeah?” 

“Hey.” He could hear the smile in Gabe’s voice. “I was just thinking about you.”

Matt felt hot all over. “You—” he cleared his throat. “You were?”

“Yeah.” Gabe’s voice dipped, dusky and hoarse. “I had a couple of drinks and . . . I don’t know. Just started missing you.”

Relief flooded through Matt’s body. So Gabe was turned on, then, and Matt must have just been picking up on that. “Oh,” he said. 

“What are you up to?”

Matt swallowed. “I was reading Dryden’s book,” he said with forced nonchalance. “It’s pretty good.”

“Huh. That’s kind of funny. I mean, I’m sitting here watching The Bachelor and suddenly . . . I don’t know, it feels awful warm in here, you know? And then next thing I know, I can’t stop thinking about how bad I want you. You sure you weren’t thinking dirty Dutchy thoughts?” Gabe teased. 

Oh, God, so it wasn’t Gabe’s fault. “Oh. Oh. I, uh, sorry,” he choked. For Christ’s sake, why couldn’t he have just lied about it? But for some reason it was hard to lie to Gabe, especially since Gabe could probably feel the guilt and embarrassment warming Matt’s face. 

Gabe just laughed. “God, I love it when you get flustered.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s hilarious,” Matt said dryly. 

“No, just cute. You’re so in control all the time . . . I like to see it when you are not so, what’s the word? Composed.” Matt rolled his eyes, even if Gabe couldn’t see. “I mean it. It sort of takes the edge off you a bit.”

They were both silent a moment, listening to each other breathe. Matt tried to think about anything except his erection, which wasn’t going away. 

Gabe let out a breath through his nose. “Man, I wish I could touch you right now.”

Well, _that_ certainly wasn’t going to make his erection go away. Matt was torn. “Yeah?” he finally said, giving in. He reached down and, discreetly, he hoped, rubbed himself. His whole body felt hot with arousal and embarrassment. “Touch me how?” he finally blurted, wincing. If Gabe teased him now, he swore to God he would—

“Well, first I’d get you naked,” Gabe said. His own voice was throaty and it was obvious he wasn’t going to jerk Matt around, even if he couldn’t technically jerk him off, either. “I’d get you naked and spread you out on the bed. Kiss the inside of your thighs,” he growled, and Matt shivered flagrantly. He gave up on pretense and kicked the covers off, shimmied his boxers down. 

“Yeah?” he urged Gabe on breathlessly. 

“Oh, yeah.” 

Matt squirmed as Gabe talked about what he’d like to do with Matt, all sorts of things that Matt hadn’t considered or actively tried not to think about, and yet right now they all sounded incredibly hot. Of course, his engine was already relatively warm, so it wasn’t taking much at this point. All the same, Gabe’s purr, softly accented, describing how he wanted to eat Matt out, had Matt moaning shamelessly into the receiver, which made Gabe feel big and strong and awfully smug. 

Eventually Gabe’s voice had Matt rutting against a pillow, begging for more. Gabe was turned on, too, aching, his heart constricting in pleasure whenever Matt urged him on, telling him he was so good, that he wanted more, wanted Gabe. Gabe was just as hot and bothered as he was, and that was nice. Hell, that was hot. 

“I would do you so good, Dutchy,” Gabe’s lusty voice murmured in his hear, “so good, I promise, you would come harder than you ever dreamed possible. You’d feel so good, you’d be—” Matt could picture Gabe, in his own bed, propped against the pillows, legs splayed as he stroked himself, his cock peeking out of his fist, and—

Matt gasped as he came, and just moments later, he heard Gabe trail off into a deep groan of pleasure. “Oh, wow,” Matt breathed into the phone. “Oh, wow.”

Gabe sighed. “Dutchy . . . that was so good.” Matt grinned. “I know it’s not the same as real sex, but that was . . . something else.”

Matt agreed drowsily. “You were good,” he mumbled, too tired to be coy anymore. “You were so good.”

Gabe could hear the sleepiness in his voice. “Hey, clean up and get some sleep, okay?”

Matt nodded, then remembered Gabe couldn’t hear that. “Yeah. Will do. You too, okay?”

“Yeah.” There was a long moment of silence and Matt wondered if Gabe had hung up, or even dropped the phone, but then Gabe added, “Dutchy?”

“Yeah?” he said with a yawn. 

“I wish I could touch you right now.” Gabe’s voice was husky and full of longing again, but it was a different kind of longing. 

Matt, too, wished they could touch right now. He wished he could find a way to make Gabe feel a little less like a monster, and a little less alone. “Yeah?” he said as lightly as he could manage. “Touch me how?”

Gabe swallowed. “I’d like to be able to kiss you good night,” he said sadly. 

Matt ached for a moment, but then pushed the feeling away. He wasn’t going to let the night end on a note like that. “Yeah? Well,” he said, and then made a kissing noise at the phone. “There. Best I can do. No tongue, though, ‘cuz I’m not that kind of girl.”

Gabe laughed. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Matt said. “Sweet dreams,” he added. They each hung up feeling a little bit better about things—and yet still awfully frustrated. Matt really hoped they’d get the lion thing sorted out, and fast.

oOoOoOo

Everything was different. The whole world was different. It was like he had stepped through a looking glass into some fantasy world. Matt waited for the last puck drop, ears ringing with the cheers in the Pepsi Center. The place was crammed with people all excited for Patrick Roy’s first game back, eager to see if he’d be able to breathe life into the foundering team.

Had he _ever._

They were up six-nothing. _Six to nothing._ And it felt good. It felt . . . not easy, exactly, but right. Good. Like Roy had turned them into a weapon and grabbed that team and aimed them in the right direction and let them loose. Matt was absolutely elated. 

Best of all, for every laugh that bubbled to the surface, every great shot that made him feel awesome, he could feel it echo in Landy, and then it would come back to him, doubled. So this was what it was like to be soulmates, huh, when things were right? Not half bad. 

Tabernac sat on Roy’s shoulder, eyeing everyone on from both teams with dark malevolence. Management had tried to say something about that; some little bald guy had approached Roy just before the game, pointing at Tabernac and stuttering about how, “Er, Management requests . . . uh . . . Management sent me to . . . the guys upstairs, they said . . .” 

But Roy had just nailed him with that icy blue stare that he used to turn on players like Gretzky before he stonewalled them. It said, “ _I am Patrick Fucking Roy. Don’t even fucking try it._ ”

Eventually the guy had given up and gone for a lie down with his rabbits to recover, and Tabernac had stayed right on Roy’s shoulder, perched haughtily like a king on his throne, making throaty little clucks of self-satisfaction. 

Then Lovejoy threw a knee at MacKinnon—supposedly—and Tabernac squawked loudly even before Roy said anything, and the next thing Matt knew, the Ducks had scored. Well, six-one, then. Didn’t even make a dent in his mood. 

But then Perry and Roy started shouting at each other, with Tabernac feistily bouncing up and down and trying to out-crow the lot. Matt winced. He didn’t know how Patrick could take that, right in his ear, no less. Hell, it was happening right behind Matt, and he could barely hear himself think. 

Then Matt hopped over the boards for a shift just as both Roy and Boudreau lost their fricken’ minds. He turned around to see them screaming at each other. Patrick began slamming his hands against the glass partition, with Tabernac crowing encouragement the entire time. With one last shove, the partition fell down partway, and then the rooster exploded over the glass, ready to take on the entire Ducks roster one at a time or all at once; he didn’t give a shit. Even Boudreau, red-faced and furious, fell back at the onslaught of insane chicken, while most of the Ducks bench huddled back into a corner, looking around like they were trying to figure out when they’d walked into a fucking insane asylum. 

Matt had to laugh. He could feel Gabe doing the same. There was something about seeing Getzlaf gape at a chicken like he was trying to come to grips with the world. This wasn’t hockey, it was showmanship, but even Matt had to admit it was pretty fucking good. 

“Holy shit,” he giggled afterward, leaning on Gabe for support. “Holeeee shit. Did you see that?” 

“Wow,” Gabe replied. “Just . . .wow.”

“You can’t take it too seriously, though.”

“Well, certainly not, but I think he sent a good message. He is watching out for us. And did you see the stands?”

“Could you imagine going to a game like that? That was outstanding! Vintage Roy!” Matt crowed. “They got their money’s worth tonight. That was _priceless._ ”

Gabe nodded. “You want to go out and . . . maybe get some drinks?” he suggested. 

“Hey, yeah, you betcha. First win of the season! Great game! We should celebrate,” Matt agreed. 

After the third or fourth drink, Gabe started to get frisky. Not _bad_ frisky—the kind with teeth, but Matt made him move his hand off Matt’s ass anyway, just in case. 

“You never let me have any fun,” Landy sighed. 

It was a frustrating reminder that they still didn’t know how to solve Gabe’s problem. Matt wondered if Roy would be more approachable on the subject than Sacco had been. But then Gabe was kissing his neck, and for the next few minutes he kind of had his hands full and forgot his train of thought. 

Gabe nuzzled his nose against Matt’s. “You know, you are really hot.”

Matt grinned widely. “And _you_ ,” he replied, “are _really_ hosed. I’m going to have to call Tuesday down just to haul your ass home.”

Gabe sort of sagged against Matt’s shoulder. “Wish I could do that.”

“Ride a mastodon? Any time, man. But you smell afterward, just to warn you.” Matt threw an arm around him, afraid he was going to slip down to the floor.

“No,” Gabe sighed. “Just . . . ‘ave that kinda control. Couldn’t call the lion. Kinda sucks, you know? You do so great . . . you and your hairy elephant. And Roy, he kicked some serious ass with his rooster. Wouldn’t it be great?”

Matt patted his back. He didn’t know what to say. 

The bartender came over, giving Matt a sympathetic look. “Need me to call you guys a cab?”

“Yeah, maybe that’d be a good idea.” That was a way better idea than calling mastodons downtown. Roy was probably going to get a fucking ticket for his shenanigans tonight, in fact. There was shit you just didn’t do with spirit animals. 

Gabe, at the sloppy drunk stage, grabbed hold of the bartender’s arm. “What’s your animal?” he asked. 

The man stiffened. “I am aspiritual, sir,” he said in a clipped voice. “I don’t hold with any of that nonsense, and have no so-called ‘spirit animal.’”

Matt turned his head, embarrassed for the man. He knew, of course, that some people, for some reason that had never been ascertained, never bonded to spirit animals, but he hadn’t met a whole lot of them. Back in the colonial days, anyone over twenty-five who hadn’t bonded to a spirit animal would have been tried as a witch and probably drowned. Today of course no one did that, but it was still considered an aberration. Sometimes people who couldn’t bond treated spirit animals and soulbonds like hoaxes that the rest of the world tried to pass off as real. It was sad, really.

“I don’t believe in any of that hocus-pocus, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shove it down my throat.” He stomped off to call them a cab while Matt awkwardly tried not to look like he pitied the guy. 

“Oops,” Gabe muttered, sobering up a little. 

“Weird,” Matt mumbled. “When I was a kid we all thought that people who couldn’t bond were just immature, but now I hear scientists think they’ve got a medical condition—something to do with one of the lobes of their brains.”

Gabe made a funny face. “Maybe I should let them cut me open, look at my brain,” he said in a dull voice. “There’s probably lots of stuff wrong with it.” He leaned against Matt.

Matt ached. “Hey, don’t talk like that,” he murmured against Gabe’s skin. 

The bartender came back over. “Your cab should be here anytime,” he said stiffly. He turned away, but Gabe grabbed his arm. 

“Hey,” he said. He hiccuped. “Be glad you don’t have a spirit animal. They are not everything they’re cracked up to be.” He was in the sloppy-drunk stage.

Matt pried his arm loose. “Come on; we should go,” he said. 

The bartender glared at them as Matt helped Landy up. He was sure to leave the guy an extra big tip. 

He wondered which was worse; not having a spirit animal or having one you couldn’t control?  


“Not having one,” Gabe answered, and Matt realized he’d spoken out loud.

“I thought you just told that guy you were worse off,” Matt said as he steered Gabe toward the sidewalk. 

Gabe was quiet a long moment as the cab pulled over to the curb. “Yeah, but that isn’t true,” he said. Matt helped him into the car and slipped in next to him. Landy looked at him and Matt could feel waves of gratitude pouring out of him. “If you don’t bond to a spirit animal, you will never find a Mate, either. So that’s worse. You’d be pretty lonely. Maybe my spirit animal isn’t so great, but at least I’ve got you,” Gabe pointed out.

Matt smiled. Put like that, he was sort of glad they were soulmates, too. He’d hate for Gabe to go through this alone. 

Gabe wrapped an arm around him on the drive home. For once, Matt didn’t even try to push him away. He just leaned in and enjoyed the caramel sweet scent of the drinks Gabe had imbibed, the steady sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body and, underlying all, the diffusion of Gabe’s feelings within his own chest, his melancholy slowly evening out into something like contentment.

oOoOoOo

The Family Sports Biodome was hopping when he got there. He wasn’t there for practice; Patrick had called him in to discuss something, and he sure hoped he wasn’t in trouble. He walked into the place on jelly legs. But apparently there was some sort of kids’ thing going on, because he kind of got swarmed when he walked in.

“Are you Matt Duchene?”

“Yeah, that’s Matt Duchene. Are you blind?”

“Can I have your autograph?”

“Can I touch your shirt?”

“You’re _weird,_ Kaley.”

“That’s not weird. _You’re_ weird.” 

Matt grinned. “Nobody sounds too weird to me, and anybody can have an autograph if they want one, okay?”

“But I don’t have a pen!” one boy wailed.

Matt squeezed his shoulder. “That’s cool, okay? I have a pen.”

“Will you sign my shirt?”

“Will you sign my cheek?”

“Will you sign my dog?”

“Everything but the dog,” Matt told them easily, handing out autographs left and right. “I don’t have your dog’s permission, and I can’t talk to dogs, so I can’t ask for it.”

“I wanna be just like you!”

“I bet you’ll be a lot better than me,” Matt told the kid earnestly. The boy swelled out his chest like a puffer fish. “Just work hard at it, okay?”

“’K.”

“Thanks!”

“Yeah, thanks, Matt!”

“Thanks, _Mr. Duchene_ ,” Kaley corrected. 

“No, that’s okay. You guys are obviously elite hockey players, so you can call me Matt.”

They squealed and clapped at this, even the boys. Of course, they were awfully young boys, six or seven. That was the best age, he figured, for a fan. They had the most fun, and Matt had the most fun meeting them. They were dead honest, and super excited, and they never wanted to know why you made a bad turnover last night. 

“Awesome,” one boy with a runny nose whispered as Matt finished signing his shirt. “Now when I tell my mom I don’t want to wash it, she won’t be able to make me!” 

Matt laughed. “You should be nice to your mom. She works real hard.” In his experience, pretty much all moms did. His sure had. 

“My dad says you made a _bad turnover_ last night,” one somber little boy with green eyes told him. “You should work on that.”

Matt burst into laughter. “Thanks for the tip,” he said weakly. A guy with a beer gut had told him the same thing last night at the store; it wasn’t nearly so funny coming from him.

Finally he extricated himself from the rugrats and found his way to Patrick’s office. Patrick was seated as his desk, intent on writing something. Even though the door was open, Matt knocked.  


Patrick looked up, blinking. “Oh. Well, hey there.”

“Morning,” Matt said, feeling like a dork. He hadn’t been tongue-tied in years, but this was Patrick Roy. His _boss,_ Patrick Roy. Unbelievable. 

“Come on in,” Patrick told him. 

“Oh. Sure.” Matt nearly tripped over himself in his hurry to do just that.

Tabernac, perched on the backrest of Roy’s chair, looked at him with deep suspicion before settling back into a doze with a couple of soft clucks.

Patrick grinned. He had this way of smiling that seemed really real—whenever Sacco had smiled at him, Matt felt like he was being set up for something. “The door is open, you can come in, okay? It is what you might call a literal open door policy,” Patrick joked. 

Matt laughed too. “Yeah? Cool.” He felt his ears get red. He didn’t want the guy to think he was an unprofessional dweeb, but Jesus, being anywhere near the always immaculate Joe Sakic and the preternaturally charismatic Patrick Roy made him feel like a big, stupid slob. 

As Matt sat down, Patrick leaned forward, across his desk. “I want you to know something: you are elite player, you listen, you work hard. That is all I ever want from my guys.”

Okay, this was too much. It was everything he’d ever begged the universe for, wrapped up in a big red bow. “Thank you, sir.”

“Patrick. We do not stand on ceremony, eh? We gonna be partners, and we gonna be great.” Patrick pointed at him. “ _You,_ I think, in particular, got a lot of potential. Now, you got a few things we gotta work on—hell, who doesn’t? But I think for sure you will be able to get better.”

“Yeah?” That was nice. A nice way for him to approach the subject, Matt thought. He knew Sacco wasn’t happy with his defensive skills. Hell, he wasn’t crazy about them, either. But he really wasn’t fucking up just to piss Sacco off. He just couldn’t seem to fit in that style of play. Roy was telling him they needed to work on it, but he wasn’t saying Matt was a useless piece of shit who deserved to ride the bench. 

“Now, you know the Olympic are coming up, and I think you can make that team. You got some flaws, but if we address those, we gonna be gold. You gonna _win_ gold. And I want you on that team. So this is what I ask you; if you will promise me to put in that effort, we will work together; we will get you on that team.”

Matt’s jaw dropped. “Yes, sir. I mean, Patrick. I mean, that’d be _great!_ Wow—really? You . . . you think I could make Team Canada? The roster this year is gonna be _stacked_ , you know,” he said, worried. 

Patrick winked at him. “Don’t worry about that. I will teach you some trick. And even better, the thing you learn, they won’t just help you on that team. They will help you on ours. They help make us a contender.”

“I’ll do anything you ask me to.”

“All right. Well, the main thing for you to do will be to trust your teammate. You have some pretty good teammate, but I notice you try to do a lot by yourself. I want you to work on your positioning, to get to the right spot for your guy to hit you. And for you to pass more. Once you realize you are not alone on the ice, you are going to see some real good result, I promise.”

Matt shifted in his chair. This was something Dr. Brown had been on him about too—trust and control. He’d learned a lot about himself in therapy, including the fact that he wasn’t a natural leader, and that was okay. He liked having boundaries and knowing what other people expected of him. But he had huge trust issues, and according to Dr. Brown he had a tendency to undermine authority when he was feeling resentful. She wanted him to work on being more open—especially when he was angry. He swallowed. “Trust is not something I’m so great at,” he said. 

“Yeah, I hear about what happen with Sacco. But I am not like Sacco. I know it is going to take a while for you to really believe that. I have to earn your trust. But you are already starting to figure that out, I think, and that’s good; you are a quick learner, so maybe that will go quickly. But you are gonna have to take a chance on me the same way I take a chance on you.”

Matt stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“I send you out on the ice, I tell you what I want, but I do not control you. I cannot move you like a puppet. I have to trust that you do what I want. You have to trust for me to lead you the right way. It is a tradeoff for both of us. And I know that it is hard. Believe me, when I first become a coach, it was real hard. I want to do _everything_. That’s who I am. But me running around trying to do everything don’t win games. One person cannot win a hockey game. That takes a team. And that takes trust.”

Matt thought about the way he tended to overthink things, his own controlling nature, and sighed. “Yeah, I understand. I don’t know if I can do it, but I understand.”

Patrick smiled warmly. “You will get there,” he promised.

oOoOoOo

“Can I take you on a date?”

“On a _date?_ ” Matt repeated, pulling the sweater over his head and glancing around to make sure no one was listening. They’d just shut out the Bruins, so Matt was in a good enough mood to possibly consider a date, but he’d rather not have everyone know. The locker room had almost cleared out, so it seemed pretty safe. “What, now? Right now?”

Gabe’s smile was wide and perfect, like a used car salesman. “No time like the present. Actually, I was going to talk to another guy who is bonded to an apex predator, and since last time you bawled me out for not discussing things with you first, I thought I’d better ask permission.”

Matt’s face warmed. He hadn’t meant to be high-handed about it. Both Coach— _Patrick_ —and Dr. Brown had been subtly telling him that he had control issues. He was trying to keep an eye on that. “Sure, let’s go.” As he grabbed his jacket and followed Gabe outside something ticked over in his brain. “Wait a minute, did you say apex predator?”

“Yeah. Even more apex than me, for once.”

“Chara. You’re talking about Zdeno Chara, aren’t you?” Matt said, his stomach sinking. 

Gabe’s grin didn’t change, but his eyes laughed at Matt. “That’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not afraid of Chara, are you?”

“No,” Matt said, swallowing hard. And he wasn’t, exactly, but his experiences so far with guys who were bonded to apex predators had _not_ been great experiences. 

To Matt’s surprise, he found Gabe had rented a car for the occasion. “Can’t we just take a cab?” he asked in surprise as he got in. 

“Nope. It’s almost a two hour drive. I thought it would be fun this way. Kind of hang out, talk. I wasn’t really into the idea of having a driver listen in, you know?”

“Oh. Uh. Sounds good,” Matt agreed somewhat dubiously. He figured it would be okay as long as there weren’t any lions in the area. And, after all, they’d gone nearly a month without an incident. The last time anything happened, Matt had heard loud noises out back when he returned from work and rushed into the yard to see the lion circling Paisley and roaring, while Paisley yipped and barked and bounced all over the place in indignation. 

Matt and Gabe had got in a huge fight; Matt had called Gabe up, yelling, telling him to get his shit together. And as usual Gabe had no clue, didn’t even know what happened, and Matt had screamed, “ _Your fucking lion just tried to eat my fucking dog, you fucking asshole loser!_ For fuck’s sake, you better find a way to fix this, because if you hurt my dog, I swear—”

Gabe had apologized profusely but insisted he never sent the lion toward Matt, telling Matt it wasn’t fair to blame him. Matt had hung up. They’d let the subject drop since then, but Matt had Tuesday come around often to look out for Paisley. Tuesday and Paisley were great pals--Tuesday loved throwing Paisley's ball and watching the dog race for it--or pretending to throw the ball and watching the dog hunt around in confusion. It was causing some huge fights between Matt and his neighbor, though. 

When the car pulled off the highway, Matt found his palms starting to sweat. There was nothing like winding your way down a long, narrow road hedged in by towering trees, in the middle of the night, going to have a chat with two powerful guys bonded to two even _more_ powerful animals. Especially when at least one of them had a history of trying to maim you whenever he got horny.

Eventually they passed a sign that read, _Northampton Short-Nosed Bear Rescue._ “Looks like we’re almost there!” Gabe said cheerfully. He wasn’t a bit nervous. And he was very considerately trying to pretend that he didn’t know Matt was nervous. 

They pulled up at a gate and had to be buzzed in. Chara greeted them right at the entrance. He had only got there a short while before they did. “I’m sorry for the long drive,” he said. He had a ponderous way of speaking, a slower, more deliberate speech than Gabe’s. You could see him choosing his words before saying them. “But if we are talking about my bears, I thought it would be best if you met them.”

“Oh, good. We get to meet the bears,” Matty muttered. He rolled his eyes toward Landy as subtly as possible. “Yay. Short-nosed bears, the apex predator of the entire country. Wheee.”

Landy gave him an encouraging grin, but it came off a little nervous. “I haven’t met another person bonded to an apex spirit animal,” he explained, to Chara or Matt, Matt couldn’t tell. 

Chara led them down a dirt path. There was a fire prepared. There were no seats, but there were logs—basically tree stumps to sit on. He made a gesture for them to take a seat, and they sat. 

“It is not a responsibility to take lightly,” he said after a few moments.

Gabe nodded. “I . . . I’m having some problems with my bond,” he admitted quietly. 

Chara poked the fire. He didn’t seem to be listening. “Your spirit animal is the lion?” At Gabe’s nod, he nodded as well. “I read this in ESPN.” He sighed. “I would hate to give you false hope that I can help. Bears and lions are . . . different.”

“Anything you can tell us—” Matty broke in, but Chara held up a hand and kept on looking at Gabe. 

“What are the problems you are having?” he asked Landy.

Gabe glanced at Matt uncomfortably for a second. “I don’t seem to control it very well. I tell it to come, but it doesn’t come. I ask it to go, and it doesn’t go. And it shows up unexpectedly.”

Chara looked at the fire for a long time, nodding. 

It was cold, and Matt shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. There were pens nearby and he could hear snorts and snuffles. The trees were tall, making their space by the campfire seem small and closed in, except when he looked straight up, and saw a patch of sky glittering with stars. 

“Bears are not like cats,” Chara eventually said. For some reason he looked a little sad. But then he had kind of an odd face anyway, one Matt found hard to read. “Did you know we have domesticated bears, in one way or another, for thousands of years? They became useful to us when the ice began to grow. Their strength, their warmth, even their meat . . . we used them.” He stopped and looked up at Gabe. “But we could not use the cat. Small cats, yes, for mice. But the big cats have always been beyond man’s control. We have tried many times, but we have never managed to domesticate them. This much I know.” He smiled a little. “Not that the bear is fully domesticated by any means. But the cats are something else.”

Gabe dropped his face in his hands. “So you’re saying it’s hopeless? That the great cats can’t be controlled?”

“I don’t say that. I don’t control my bears. I . . . achieve a balance. I steer the bear, perhaps. I ride within the bear. But I don’t own the bear. Bears have their own motives, and must be respected.”

“He respects the lion plenty,” Matt put in, and Chara looked at him. He didn’t change his expression or anything, but somehow Matt got the message: _this isn’t about you, so shut up and let Gabe talk._

“How . . . how can I do better?” Gabe asked. 

“I know a few tricks,” Chara offered. He gave it some thought, his brows lowering ponderously. “I will make a list. Then I’ll send it to you. That will give time to put my thoughts in order. Then, you will call me after you have read my ideas. And we will talk without interruption.”

Matt drew himself up huffily; he was as much a part of this as anyone. _He_ was the one whose head would get chewed off if they failed. On the other hand, maybe Landy hadn’t told Chara that bit. And that was for the best. 

Gabe rubbed his face. “I wish to God I had bonded to a hamster.”

Matt wanted to lighten things up, but he caught a glimpse of Zdeno’s face and thought better. 

“It is not easy to be bonded to an apex predator,” the man said. There was a noise from the darkness and the man unfolded like a telescope, standing up and up and up, reminding Matt how huge he was. In the eerie firelight, his face was an unsettling mask. “Here is one of my dojčatá,” he said. 

Matt stiffened, and a moment later a monstrous bear lumbered into their little camp, making dodges and dekes at Chara’s legs. Chara barked something in his own language and the bear stood up on two legs, weaving joyfully, giant paws reaching out for him. Chara allowed the bear to envelope him, snuffling and grumbling and playfully trying to knock him down. 

Matt watched, unable to make a noise. Chara was so _big _. He was always the biggest guy on the ice. And this bear _dwarfed_ him. It could have taken his whole head off with one bite. It could have laid him out with one brush of its massive paw. If Chara didn’t have the animal completely under control, what havoc it could wreak! __

__Chara scratched it around its ruff, kissed its big, scarred nose, and patted it comfortably as it dropped back down to all fours. It glanced around at the men by the campfire with its beady little eyes, but its expression was one of good-humor and it made no move toward them._ _

__“Do you know the worst thing about having an apex predator for a spirit animal?” To Matt’s surprise, the question was directed at him, not Gabe. He shook his head wordlessly. Chara looked sadly at his bear. “People poach them to have trophies, or want to kill them all . . . because of fear and ignorance.”_ _

__Matt swallowed._ _

__“You stink of fear,” Chara said casually. “It’s a pity. People who cannot master their fear do terrible things.”_ _

__Bristling, Matt glared at him. “I’m here, aren’t I? Despite being afraid?”_ _

__This elicited a one-shouldered shrug. “At any rate, many would see all bears destroyed. Or, worst of all, they kill the mothers, then steal the dojčatá.” He scowled at the dark night. “They are wild, and it is cruel to make them live in confinement and pretend they are pets. Worse, to many people, particularly the drug lords, who think a ferocious animal is a status symbol, they are often taken only to be abused or neglected.”_ _

__Matt nodded. He had heard of such things, but didn’t realize it was widespread._ _

__“So when I hear of this happening, we rescue them and bring them here, to my sanctuary, and through my bond, I help them to heal.”_ _

__Matt was surprised the large man had such a gentle, tender side to him. He certainly didn’t show it out on the ice, when he was eager to rip an opponent to bloody shreds if he felt a teammate was threatened._ _

__Landy listened carefully to the exchange; maybe a charitable bent appealed to him. “That’s certainly interesting,” he muttered. After a few moments he blinked a little and looked over at Matt. “We should probably get back to the hotel. We have an early flight,” he said reluctantly._ _

__Chara nodded and stood. He and Gabe shook hands, and Matt thought there was some weird similarity between them. He wasn’t sure he could name it. But there was something in the bearing, something that made them unmistakable as leaders. Then Chara patted his bear’s head again and his face was transformed, serene and affectionate, and the bear’s expression was very nearly the same._ _

__Then Chara shook Matt’s hand as well. “Thanks for meeting with us,” Matt said. “It was real interesting. I don’t know about Gabe, but I never realized that underneath it all you had this big heart and compassionate side. You’re a real pussycat.”_ _

__Zdeno smiled widely. “Oh, yes. I have a great affection for my bears and for all humankind, it is true. All the same, be warned, because that will not stop me from leaving you a bloody smear along the boards the next time we meet.” In the flickering firelight, his terrible grin turned menacing. “Your spins won’t save you next time, little man.”_ _

__For a moment Matt had a feeling of dread, as any man did when having to face Chara coming at him at speed, but then the humor of the situation hit him, and he smiled. “Okay,” he said. Then he winked. “But first you’ll have to catch me, big guy, and that might not be as easy as you think!”_ _

__Chara laughed hugely and slapped Matt on the back with a hand like a bear’s paw._ _

____

oOoOoOo

“What’s your spirit animal?”

“God, Matty, I know you’re young and really enthusiastic about . . . every little fucking thing, but if you could just stop talking about it for five minutes, that’d be great.” Perry pinched the bridge of his nose, like he was getting a headache. 

“You’re just salty because my coach could take your coach in the rink or in the ally,” Matt retorted, tossing his head. 

Perry only rolled his eyes and grumbled something about little kids being allowed to play for Team Canada.

The room was filled with talented men, and it was an unparalleled opportunity to find out how guys like that dealt with their soulmates and spirit animals. Matt had learned so much he was beginning to think he ought to write a book. It was true, though, he _was_ young—he was the youngest guy on Team Canada, something he was really proud of. And something he was frustrated by, considering he had sat out the first game because of it. Babcock had been straight with him; it was an easy decision to make, because he had no experience. But he had been given a chance later, and then Tavares had been injured, and now he had a real opportunity to make a difference. In addition, Matt was just trying to soak up the experience—and make the most of it.

“Leave the kid alone,” Toews said, and Perry backed down. Even though Matt liked to think Sidney Crosby was a personal friend, it had mostly been Jonny Toews who’d looked out for him the past couple of days. And anyway, you could have a worse mentor than Toews, considering how the Hawks had won the Cup last year. Besides, when he’d tried to approach Sid about things the response had been, ‘Not _that_ again!’ and, ‘Get your head in the game, Matty. You need to be focused!’ Toews gave the impression of being pretty tightly wound as well, but he went easy on Matt and didn’t moan when the subject wasn’t hockey. “What do you want to know about spirit animals?” he asked. 

Matt was pleased. He’d found that Toews always made himself available, which Matt felt made for a good leader. He wasn’t just worried about himself; he looked out for his team. Laser-focus on the ice—focused but approachable in practices. Matt mentally filed that away as a lesson learned here in Sochi. The more he got out of the trip, the better. 

“I’m just trying to get an idea of how things work in the context of soulmates,” he explained. “Most people seem to get along well, but every now and then I hear of a predator-prey relationship and I hear things can get rocky.”

“That’s true,” Toews acknowledged. 

“But you and Kane are both predators, right?”

“Yup.” He said it so casually that Matt felt a kind of wild envy, and he nearly broke down and told Toews everything right there. If there hadn’t been so many people around, he might have done it. He wished he had that kind of composure. “Kaner’s an eagle. Bald eagle. You might think that two predators would get along easy, but it took some work right at the beginning. He tends to be . . . flighty.” Toews flashed a grin at Matt’s groan. He went back to taping his stick, but still listening to Matt.

Matt bit his lip. He tried not to stare at the _Patrick Timothy Kane II_ that curled around Jonny’s left wrist. It wasn’t really noticeable unless you looked for it, but Matt was still impressed that Toews acted so casual about it. “Did you ever, ah, like in the beginning, were there ever arguments? Like, uh, for dominance or whatever?”

“For _dominance?_ ” Jonny repeated in laughing disbelief. “Did Kaner and I ever fight for dominance? Oh, wow, Dutchy, you come up with some wild ones. No, ah, we never fought for dominance. Sometimes we fight over the remote or what to order for dinner or the radio station or lots of other stuff, but not, uh . . . for ‘dominance.’” He shook his head in amusement. “But, you know, we are both pretty stubborn guys. So there maybe was a bit of head-butting at first, but the way the bond works, it helps smooth stuff out. It’s like a biological honeymoon thing, I guess.” Matt noticed that Toews reddened as he said it; it was good to know even experienced veterans got a bit uncomfortable about discussing stuff like that. “It, like, conditions you so you get less mad about stuff, you know? And then by the time you’ve been bonded awhile, you’re more or less used to each other.”

“Huh. I never thought about it that way.” Matt wondered if Dr. Brown had been right, and it really _was_ a lack of intimacy screwing them up. Maybe Matt’s prudishness meant Gabe and the lion were left frustrated. “Why did you tell people?” he asked on sudden impulse.

Jonny looked up, his brown eyes wide with surprise. “What?”

“It’s just . . . a lot of guys stay in the closet. Especially sports guys.”

“Yeah. Well, we couldn’t do that. For one thing, Kaner is not a closet kind of guy,” Toews answered wryly. “But either way, we both agreed that we needed to do it. I mean, I already have a gold. They can’t take that away from me. I’ve proven myself. That doesn’t mean I don’t keep proving myself, but . . . we figured, it would mean something, coming from two good players. We wanted to sort of scrape the ice a little bit, make things easier for the next guys to come. That was really important to both of us. If you have influence, seems like kind of a crime not to use it for something good, you know?”

Matt nodded. “You don’t know any predator-prey pairings, do you?”

Jonny nodded. “Heard of some, yeah. I mean, Corey Perry is a weasel—”

“I AM NOT A WEASEL, FUCKER.” Perry interrupted as he stomped past. His animal was a stoat, but what the hell difference did it make? He gave Toews the look of death and stormed off to the showers.

Jonny didn’t miss a beat. As soon as Perry had his back turned Jonny mouthed, “Weasel,” at Matt again with a broad grin. He wasn’t fazed by Corey Perry or his antics. “And his girlfriend is some kinda . . . I think she’s some kinda bird. So, I mean, it happens. And I had a teacher, she bonded to a coyote and her husband was a horse. Well, I mean, not that a horse is exactly prey for a coyote, but in general coyotes are predators and horses aren’t, so there you go. Why do you wanna know about this stuff, anyway?”

Matt shifted uncomfortably, but Toews had been straight with him and he kind of felt like paying that back with a lie would be uncool. “It’s kind of personal,” he admitted. 

Toews eyebrows shot up. 

It was clear he was waiting for an answer. Matt looked at the floor. “It’s not just my problem, okay? It involves someone else and it’s complicated, and I feel like I’d sort of be betraying a trust by talking about it without asking first.”

Jonny leaned back. He glanced around. At a moment no one was standing close by he said, “So Matty Duchene got himself into some kind of predator-prey relationship and it ain’t going so hot, huh?”

Matt flushed, wincing. “It’s complicated.”

Toews sighed. “I can’t make you talk, so I won’t try. But you should talk. If you don’t wanna talk to me, I think you oughta sit down with your coach or maybe even Sakic and ask him to point you in the right direction. They have resources, Dutchy. And experience.”

Matt shrugged. “Maybe.” He’d talked to a lot of guys over the past week, and from Benn and his musk ox to Kunitz’ aggressive honey badger to Shea Weber’s bear dog, he’d learned a lot about spirit animals and how they related to people. But he still couldn’t quite figure out what went wrong with Gabe’s. 

Toews stood, done with taping his stick. “Okay, well, think it over. And if you decide you wanna get it off your chest, just let me know, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” 

“Don’t let it get in the way of the game,” Toews warned.

“I promise.”

From the other side of the room, Matt caught Crosby giving him an exasperated look. Heck, he was probably right. He should shelve this stuff for later. This was the Olympics. 

For now, he should focus on winning.

oOoOoOo

Team Canada won again. The next day he took his family to see the women’s team win their game. He was sure they would. They were too good not to. Even so, he was on the edge of his seat the whole time, and when that final goal went in, he leapt to his feet and whooped as loud as anyone. 

Afterward his father insisted on taking the family out for dinner. He wouldn’t even let Matt pay, which was silly. “I got this, Matty,” he insisted. “You just worry about your next game.”

“But money doesn’t worry me, Dad,” he tried to explain. It didn’t do any good. Matt got his stubborn streak straight from his father. If he was lucky, he might be able to talk the guy into letting him leave the tip. 

“So, everything seems to be coming up Matt,” his mother noted at one point with a broad smile. “No more of that nasty man coaching you, working for Coach Roy and Joe Sakic, on Team Canada . . . I expect a Stanley Cup and an engagement before the end of the summer,” she told him.

He choked on his wine, managing to spit most of it into his glass. 

“Ew, Matt! Mind your table manners!” Jess exclaimed, but she was laughing. 

Matt wiped his mouth with his napkin, face red. He hoped they would think it was from the choking. 

No such luck. 

His mother, her parental perspicacity in overdrive, tilted her head to the side and looked at him with eyes that could see right into his skull. “ _Is_ there someone? Matt, you’re blushing. I thought you went through a breakup just recently. Did you meet someone new?”

Matt opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut. Oh, God. His mother. He was perennially unable to lie to his mother. That had been a real disadvantage as a teenager, back when even little things like lying about a friend’s big party had really tripped him up. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t _tried,_ it was only that he was so _bad_ at it. A little white lie always tangled his tongue and left him pink and stuttery. 

“I—no—no—I haven’t, um—” Matt cursed himself. He looked helplessly at his father. 

“Don’t pry,” his dad said immediately. “Let the boy tell us when he’s ready.”

Matt rubbed his face. His mother was still looking at him. “Okay, I kind of met someone,” he blurted. He looked nervously at his sympathetic father, and then at his frankly delighted sister. He knew Jess would be happy if he met somebody, but at the moment she was mostly just taking evil glee in watching him squirm. 

“Well, why don’t you tell us about her? We promise not to tease,” his mom said, giving Jess a stern look. “Unless you feel like it will distract you from the games.”

In fact, the games might keep everyone else distracted. And he was going to have to do this eventually. “Um. Okay. So . . . me and Gabe. Er. Landeskog.” Matt’s face was hot and his palms were clammy. He looked down at his plate of pasta miserably. “We, um, after his Quickening, there was a soulbond.” He glanced around at his family uncomfortably. “I know it’s not what you guys expected. Heck, it’s not what I expected either.” He shrugged, not knowing what more he could say. 

“Well,” his mother said with a small intake of air. “That _is_ a surprise. My goodness, why haven’t you invited him around for dinner?” He glanced at her apprehensively. “I do think we have the right to meet this man of yours. Soulmate or no soulmate, I want to be sure he’ll treat you well.”

“Mo-om,” Matt said immediately, adopting a whiny tone without noticing. “What do you want to do, interrogate him?”

“Well, I find it a little odd that you never mentioned him before. I just want to have a chance to judge his character.”

He shook his head and glanced at his father, wary. If anyone was going to be uncomfortable, it would be his dad, a solid, conservative, simple man who’d worked hard to give Matt the best chance in life. His dad, however, just reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “We just want you to be happy, son. Remember, that’s all that matters to us.”

Matt let out a long sigh of relief and looked to his sister. She was the next generation, and they didn’t care about stuff like that. He knew she’d be in his corner.

Jessica, however, looked scandalized. “ _Matthew,”_ she said in a scolding voice. “Isn’t Gabe Landeskog an assistant captain for Team Sweden? _That_ Gabe Landeskog?”

“Uh . . . yeah,” he replied, guarded. “Why?”

She slapped his shoulder. “You are _sleeping with the enemy,_ that’s why! And what will poor Sidney Crosby think? He’d cry you a Canadian river, you traitor,” she teased him. 

“Jesus, Jess, whatever,” he grumbled. She’d really had him scared for a second. 

“How come you went and bonded to some Swede instead of Sidney Crosby, anyway?” she demanded to know, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “If it’s gotta be a hockey player, couldn’t you aim a little higher?”

“What are you talking about? Gabe’s a _great_ player,” Matt snapped. Then he got a hold of himself. What the heck was he doing, trying to defend Gabe’s honor? 

“Leave your brother alone,” his mother told Jess placidly. “He’s got a lot on his mind right now, and he doesn’t need you pulling his leg.”

“Oh, fine. He has no sense of humor anyway,” Jess grumped. “Are you going to marry this talented hockey player of yours?” she asked archly. 

“I, uh, I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Matt, is this boy good to you?” His mother sounded so worried. He would die before he told her that Gabe had tried to tear his throat out with his teeth. He couldn’t upset them like that—they’d do nothing but worry. 

“He’s a real sweet guy, mom,” he hedged. He was going to break out in a stress rash if this kept up. “I swear.” It was, after all, more or less the truth. 

His mother didn’t look completely satisfied. “Well, I want to meet him,” she said. 

“I’ll think about it,” was all he would promise.

oOoOoOo

He and McGinn crashed into each other in San Jose and he blew his MCL. It was a stupid mistake, nobody’s fault. Well, his fault—if he’d kept his fucking head up it wouldn’t have happened. And the Avs entered the playoffs without him.

Matt was stuck at home, but there was nothing he could do about that. Management didn’t want anyone seeing how injured he was. It killed him to be on the outside looking in. And his anxiety only grew as the games went on. Now was when the team needed him most. 

A few days after the injury there was a snowstorm, and Matt limped outside with his snow blower to clear a path along the sidewalk. He didn’t want to, but he also didn’t want the H.O.A. up his ass about it, and Steve would have them on the phone by the end of the day if he didn’t have it done. 

The brace made things awkward, but he had managed to make one long pass down the drive and along the walk when he suddenly got the feeling he was being watched. Heaving a sigh, he took off one of his thick mittens, prepared to flip Steve the bird. Couldn’t the guy mind his own fucking business for ten minutes? But he didn’t see anyone at the Bristols’ place, and the windows were dark. Maybe he was just imagining things. 

Snow was beginning to fall again, obliterating his hard work. Fuck it; Joey Rivera would be getting out of school soon; Matt would pay him to take care of it. He began to hobble back up the drive when he heard a noise that turned his guts to mush. 

Hardly breathing, he half-turned. 

There, in the middle of the street, was the lion. It barely showed up against the white snow. It began to move toward him slowly. 

Matt’s heart tried to climb out of his throat. It was just like his nightmare. Jesus. He turned and began to limp quickly up the path, aware that the thing could be on him in just a couple of strides. He was sure he could feel its hot breath on his back. God, why was this happening now, when he couldn’t even run? The garage was closest; he staggered toward it, his terror extreme, screaming out in his mind for Tuesday, for Gabe, for _any_ kind of help. 

He fell through the garage door, knocking over a trash bin. Struggling, he managed to roll onto his back. The lion was there, on the steps, looming over him. With one great thrash he managed to kick the door shut with his good leg, plunging him into darkness. He heard the lion snarl; then there was an impact to the door. He couldn’t tell if the thing had run headlong into it, or maybe just taken a swipe. 

He could hear Paisley barking inside the house, and he was _extremely_ glad he’d locked the dog in instead of letting him frisk in the snow while Matt cleaned the driveway.

Matt was shaking so bad he could barely coordinate his own movements. He crawled—literally crawled—away from the door, commando-style, toward his truck. His skin was cold but he could feel sweat trickling down his face. The lion roared, and his whole body clenched up in fear. He didn’t have his car keys. Couldn’t do much out there anyway, he’d need the snowcat. He had two— _everyone_ had at least one—but again, no fucking keys. Maybe he could crawl underneath the truck? 

Just then he heard another roar, and then an answering trumpet; the cavalry had arrived. So to speak, anyway. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, his back to the truck’s tire. He could hear snorting and stomping, and he could feel mastodons, righteously angry on his behalf. He gulped, listening intently. There was a scuffle outside, a snarl, and then silence. 

After several minutes, he felt a calmness settle over him, a calmness that wasn’t his own. The mastodons were giving him the all clear. Still quivering, Matt managed to get to his feet and stumble to the door. There were several mastodons in his yard, a whole herd of females, and Tuesday, too, posting guard here and there and looking majestically in charge. Matt reached out a hand to Tuesday and he extended his trunk, caressing his hand in a gently reassuring way. 

“Thanks,” Matt whispered. 

Tuesday blinked his long eyelashes at him in response. Then he reached up and tousled Matt’s hair, making Matt laugh a little hysterically.

Then he heard yelling, and the mastodons started to become agitated again. It was his turn to try to send out soothing vibes. “What, Steve?” he yelled back. 

“Fuck the fucking H.O.A.!” Steve was screaming. “I’m done, do you hear me? That is absolutely _it!_ This time I’m calling the goddamn cops! I’m making a complaint!”

Matt lumbered back out into the snow until he could see his irate neighbor on the porch. “You know what, Steve? You know what? You do that and I’m gonna have a special dinner every night this week. You know what I’ll make, Steve? _Venison!_ ” Matt bellowed. 

Steve looked shocked and offended. 

“No law against it,” Matt reminded him. “They come right up to my fucking door sometimes. I’ll just invite them right into my fucking _kitchen!_ ”

With a gasp, Steve disappeared into his house, slamming the door behind him. 

Matt let out a long breath. Then he hobbled inside and called up Gabe.


	5. April 30, 2014: The Beginning of the End (Make Me Lose Control)

Matt wasn’t a hundred percent, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t just a game. It was the playoffs. It was the road to the Cup. 

Tyson Barrie had gone down to a knee-on-knee by Matt Cooke, and this had exposed a real lack of depth. Patrick promised them that this would be rectified next year, but right now they had to do their best. 

So Matt Duchene stepped up, painfully aware that he couldn’t give the team his usual style of play, and aware that he didn’t make up for losing a good D-man. He was still defensively a little spotty. He vowed to work on that in the off season. He just hoped the off-season didn’t come too soon. 

The players lined up on the ice as the anthem was about to start. Matt leaned heavily on one leg, trying to rest his sore knee up as much as possible. 

Gabe leaned over. “Hey, Dutchy, whatever happens, be careful out there, okay?” He looked worried. Everyone knew Matt was still not in great shape. “They already made one dirty play. Don’t want you getting hurt.”

Matt just smiled blandly. “You talking as my boyfriend or as my captain?” he said out of the side of his mouth. 

Gabe sighed. “Your boyfriend wants to kiss your boo-boos,” he admitted. “And protect you. But as your captain . . .” he gave Matt a side-long look. “I’m glad to have you out here, because we really need you. I’m proud of you for fighting through it,” he acknowledged. 

Matt quashed a grin as the anthem started. Somehow there were times when he found Gabe-the-captain way more attractive than Gabe-the-overprotective-boyfriend. And he was glad, very glad, that Gabe understood that there had to be a difference. 

The game got underway. Things were going . . . okay. Landy wasn’t himself. Matt could feel it. His hand had been injured earlier in the series and he was struggling. He was doing his best, but God knew a power forward had a hard time being a power forward when he couldn’t slam the body the way he needed for fear of worsening his hand. 

Hejda was also badly injured; he had a metal pin in his thumb and as a result, he kept dropping his stick. Matt flinched every time the fans booed at this, but he understood their perspective as well. Again, he cursed the lack of depth on the team. 

And O’Reilly was frustrated as hell. It was practically rising off him like steam. 

As Matt stood by the bench, waiting out another T.V. time out. He watched Gabe chatting with Nate, grinning and nudging him. Nate laughed at whatever Gabe said, and Matt felt a surreal feeling come over him. He was intimately aware of Gabe’s feelings, and he knew Gabe didn’t feel like laughing. Gabe was serious as a heart-attack right now. But he was faking it so well that MacKinnon couldn’t tell the difference. 

Matt wondered how often he’d done that during the season without Matt noticing—building them up, keeping things light, acting like a goofball and letting the pressure off—all while fighting through his own private hell? He watched Gabe for a long moment. It occurred to him that Gabe had kept it together really well considering the circumstances. He used a light touch with his teammates, though he could be serious enough when the situation called for it. No one else on the team had even guessed at his off-ice issues. 

Then Minnesota tied it up. A one goal lead, and they blew it, again. O’Reilly was going to rip someone’s arms off. 

“Stay zen there, bud,” Matt told him. 

Ryan blew out a long breath and nodded. 

Overtime. 

Overtimes had been good to them. They’d become addicted to them, almost, waiting until it was life or death and the fans were on the edge of their seats, biting their nails, the tension delicious, unbearable, endless, and then someone—Pauly or T-Bear or _someone_ would step up, be the hero, and put it home. God, the fucking screams from the Can, the whole place literally pulsing to the roar of _WHY NOT US? WHY NOT US?_ And hell, yes, they went home feeling like they ruled the fucking world. 

Matt wasn’t sure that was gonna be the case tonight. They were tired, and beat up, and frankly, they were nervous. Barely any of them had playoff experience, and Nate barely had any NHL experience. They weren’t winners, not yet. They were kids. Matt was very aware that a good chunk of the _team_ hadn’t even Quickened yet. He was one of the grizzled vets of the team with five years of experience—at twenty-three. 

Matt was on the bench when the whole thing blew up. They were looking so good out there—Gabe and Pauly and Nate. They had it. Suddenly Gabe and Pauly had a one-on-one and—Suter broke it up, Heatley sent it down the ice. Matt was on his feet, his blood turned to ice. He knew before it even happened. 

There was an odd-man rush to Niederreiter and bang—game winning, overtime goal. 

The Avs were done. 

Everybody piled onto the ice, the Wild to celebrate, the Avs in confusion. Coyle jostled Matt hard as he passed. “Fucking watch it,” Matt snapped. He gave Matt a shit-eating grin, and Matt lost his temper, giving him a shove. He shoved back, hard, and there was a bit of a scrabble as Matt nearly got knocked over the boards, his bad knee twinging.

Out of nowhere, Gabe leapt on Coyle. 

Leapt, like a lion on a gazelle. He fucking _roared_ , slamming the guy into the glass. Coyle started to fight back, and a bunch of guys leapt in to pull them apart. 

“Let it go, Gabe, it’s over,” Nate was telling him, exhausted, but Gabe couldn’t hear. Gabe wasn’t there. 

He had his fucking hands around Charlie Coyle’s throat, trying to strangle him or something. One of them lost his footing and they went down in a heap, and that shouldn’t have been the end of it, but it wasn’t. Gabe’s eyes were dark, an unearthly growl emanating from his chest, a deep sound a man shouldn’t be able to make. 

Matt flung himself at his Mate, trying to pull his hands off, but it was too late. He’d gone Feral. He was too far gone; even Matt shouting in his ear and trying to send him soothing feelings wasn’t working; all he was getting from Gabe’s end was pure animal instinct, no person to be reasoned with. “Gabe! _Gabe!_ ”

One of the Wild players pried him off. “Come on. Let Suter handle it.” Matt just looked at him, without comprehension, until a blur of green went past at speed, knocking Gabe off of Coyle. 

Ryan Suter had him pinned to the ice. His own face was transformed as well, his lips drawn back, teeth bared in a terrifying snarl. A frission of fear shot up Matt’s spine. Suter had called on the sabertooth to take Gabe down—possibly the only equal to an American lion. 

They were both snarling, roaring, writhing. For some reason, Matt got the feeling that there was meaning behind the sounds but if so, it was like nothing he ever experienced, ninety percent posturing and menace and a physical fight for dominance. 

The Can was stone cold silent. 

The refs hovered nearby, but no one was stupid enough to get between two men with apex predator spirits. 

The struggle went on for several minutes when Gabe’s energy began to flag. You couldn’t sustain Feral for very long. A man’s body was not made for that kind of strain. Finally, eventually, people came in and pulled them to their feet. Suter waved them off and grabbed Gabe by the arm, helping him off the ice. Everyone gave them room. He led Gabe away from everyone, talking intently in his ear the whole time. He didn’t seem angry—he just looked concerned. Gabe looked dazed, like he barely knew what was happening. A couple of medics met them in the tunnel.

Matt discovered he was shaking. Noise came back to the Can, everyone talking at once, and the Wild began to, reluctantly, celebrate. Matt made his way over to his coach. “What’s going to happen?”

“Suspension, I think,” Patrick told him grimly. “It is against the rule to call on your animal and anyway, it was after play ended . . . I dunno. I suspect we will be getting a call about it.” He looked at Matt’s face and gave him a tired smile. “Do not worry about it for now. Let me worry about Gabe. Gabe is my job.”

Matt nodded, but it wasn’t. 

That was the hard part. Worrying about Gabe was Matt’s job. And Gabe had just gone off the fucking deep end.

oOoOoOo

The next morning he tried calling Gabe, but Gabe didn’t answer. This worried him. Gabe was depressed and angry. Matt decided he’d give him a day or two to recover, and then he’d go over there and insist that Gabe talk about it.

For now, though, he felt pretty helpless. Gabe had gone Feral. That had never happened before, though he’d gotten close a couple of times in bed. Matt didn’t even know anyone else who’d gone Feral. He’d seen it on the news, people who’d lost their minds and ended up hurting themselves or causing accidents or attacking someone, but he’d never seen it in person. The closest he’d ever seen was when Patrick lost it—fighting Vernon, or Osgood, or even Boudreau, though he suspected the last, at least, was an act. Still . . . he stopped trying to reach Gabe and called Patrick instead.

“Do you have problems controlling your cock? That didn’t come out right. Let me start over,” Matt said as soon as Patrick picked up the phone. Matt could feel his whole face afire. Jesus, would he ever stop being a total dipshit around Patrick Roy? Just because the guy was the greatest goalie who ever lived . . . “Have you ever had problems controlling Tabernac? Have you ever gone Feral?”

Patrick, when he finished laughing, said, “Well, he got a temper on him, but then sometime I don’t control my temper too good so I think that probably explain it.”

Matt sighed. “Yeah, I figured. Have you ever heard of any predator-prey type soulmates?” he asked. 

“Yes, I hear of that,” Patrick replied agreeably, like his star center wasn’t calling him out of the blue asking crazy shit. 

“Well, I—what? You have?”

“Yes. I see one in the NHL registry a while back. Why?”

“In the _registry?_ ” Matt repeated, his voice rising. “You saw one in the registry? As in—it’s an actual hockey player?” The NHL kept a registry of all players and their spirit animals, as well as their soulmates. It was kept under lock and key though, and players didn’t have access to it due to privacy issues.

“Eh, yeah. Two hockey player,” Patrick told him. 

“ _Two_ hockey players!?” Matt practically shouted. “What? Why haven’t I heard about this? I’ve been asking _everyone!_ ”

“Well, to begin with, the registry is only accessible to management. Some people want to keep their private affair private. And these are private people,” Roy explained. “But also because it only happen pretty recently.”

“What? _Really? Who?_ ” Matt asked.

There was a long pause. 

Matt felt desperation rise up like his very soul would part from his body if he didn’t get an answer right now. “Please,” he begged. “ _Please_ tell me. This is really important.”

After another hesitation, Patrick asked, “Why?”

“Because—because of me. Because I . . . am in that situation. And I can’t tell you more than that right now, but please trust me that it’s really important.” Matt couldn’t go into it—not without asking Gabe. “Please,” he said again. 

“Huh. Well, this is the first time you show this kind of trust in me, and I am flattered. And I know you would not ask if it was not important. Also I guess I am the kind of guy who don’t really pay attention to thing like rules,” he added, and Matt could almost hear him wink over the phone. “But you have to promise that anyone asks, you did not find out from me.”

“I swear,” Matt breathed. 

“Okay, well, I guess in Dallas Jamie Benn and Tyler Seguin register as soulmates.”

“Really? They took the ceremony and everything?” Matt said in wonder. 

“Yes, it is all there in black and white, official. And Seguin is dire wolf, that just happen last year.”

“Yeah, and Benn’s bonded to a musk ox; I played with him for Canada,” Matt mumbled. But Benn had never mentioned he was soulmates with Tyler Seguin. Holy shit. 

“You okay? You need anything else?” Patrick asked, sounding concerned. 

“No, I . . . no, I should be okay,” Matt said slowly. “I’ve got Jamie’s number, so I’ll call him up. But thank you. And, um, I’ll explain soon.”

But he didn’t call. If he called, he gave Benn the option of hanging up, of saying it was none of Matt’s business. 

So he made plans and flew out to Dallas. Before he knew it he was on the Benns’ doorstep, ringing the doorbell repeatedly, sweating and hoping someone was home. It wasn’t Jamie, but Jordie who answered their door. He was puzzled, but obligingly went and got his brother. 

“Hey,” Matt said when Jamie came out of the other room. He glanced down and saw Jamie really was wearing a wedding bracelet. It was the sort of thing you wouldn’t see on the ice, with the gloves covering everything, if he even wore it on the ice. “I need to talk to you about—about soulmates,” he said in a rush. 

Jaime looked surprised, then self-conscious, then cautious. “Why?”

Matt swallowed hard. “Because my spirit animal is a mastodon. And Gabe, uh, Gabe Landeskog, he’s bonded to a lion. And we’re . . .” he trailed off, making a hand gesture that didn’t mean anything in particular. “And there’s—we’re—I need to know if you ever had issues with Tyler,” he finally finished. “Seguin. You know. Because, well, it’s really important.”

Jamie looked surprised and confused. “Well, uh, I—look, why don’t you come in and sit down?” he offered. 

The Benns were hospitable; Matt was invited into the living room and Jordie brought him a beer and everything. Though thinking it over, Matt realized that was probably Jordie’s way of making sure he had an excuse for being in the room while Matt and Jamie talked. 

Matt explained, haltingly, that Gabe had been exhibiting weird behaviors ever since the beginning. He talked about the marking and the biting and the possessiveness. Then he asked, desperately, “Did you ever have any problems with any of that?”

Jamie looked surprised, but Jordie jumped in. “Hahah, I think after the Mating was when Segs _stopped_ being weird, don’t you, Jamie?”

Jamie shot his brother a look. “He never did anything like that,” he said slowly. 

Matt’s heart sank. “You—you never had _any_ problems? Were you . . . he didn’t Quicken until he came to Dallas, right? Were you there? When did you realize you were Mates?”

Again, Jordie seemed compelled to jump in and give his brother shit. “Oh, God, I remember that day. It was hilarious. Segs didn’t even need a Caller. You know how it is, happens spontaneously to a lot of people. We had him over for dinner one night and he fell asleep on the couch. He does that all the time, so we just tossed a blanket on him and forgot about it. Then I got up in the middle of the night to get a drink and come downstairs and there’s this stray dog sleeping across Tyler’s legs.”

“Jesus Christ, Jordie,” Jamie interrupted. Matt thought he was going to complain about Jordie doing all the talking, but he only said, “Only _you_ would be dumb enough to think that motherfucking monster was a dog.”

Jordie waved his hands defensively. “No, but _seriously_ ,” he insisted, “this thing was big, I admit, but it was scrawny as hell and all matted. This was the homeless crack dog of spirit animals. I totally thought it was a dog.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and pulled at his beer. “It was obvious it wasn’t a dog. I knew it wasn’t a dog the first second I laid eyes on it,” he said scathingly.

Matt looked from one Benn to the other. “What happened?” Jamie reddened and didn’t answer, but Jordie started to laugh. 

“Jamie came down to get breakfast and started screaming bloody murder that there was a dire wolf in the living room and it was attacking Segs.”

Jamie was still red. “There _was_ a dire wolf,” he pointed out. “On the fucking sofa. It ripped right through the backdoor screen; yeah, I was a little concerned.”

Jordie shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “Well, blame Segs for that one; he's still got some kind of crazy-ass Boston idea that if you leave the door open it actually cools off, the poor dumbass.”

“Why am I the butt of jokes when I’m not even around to be embarrassed by them?” a voice interrupted. Matt glanced up to see Tyler Seguin coming out of the hall, his hair wet from a shower, his chest bare. 

“Uh, you know Matt Duchene,” Jamie said. 

Tyler grinned. “Yeah, might have heard of him somewhere. What’s up?”

“He’s got a Mating issue,” Jordie informed him. “So he wanted to know about yours.” He turned back to Matt and picked up right where he’d left off. “So yeah, Jamie starts screaming and that woke Tyler up, and he wasn’t wigged out at the wolf at all, naturally. And I really thought that wolf was gonna go right for Jamie’s throat, but it didn’t.”

“Naw,” Tyler said as he walked straight past them. “The moment she saw him her tail started thumping. She knew.” Matt could see most of the kitchen from his seat; Seguin went in and bypassed the beer in the fridge in favor of orange juice, which he drank straight from the carton. 

Jamie looked distinctly uncomfortable at the direction the conversation was taking. “Anyway, that was the moment we, uh—”

“That was when they bonded so hard that the nuns at the church down the street are probably _still_ blushing,” Jordie broke in gleefully. 

“Dude, shut _up,_ ” Jamie snapped. 

“Hahahaha, I had to lock myself in my room and even then they were knocking picture frames off the wall. I mean, holy shit. After about the third day I fucking put money up for a hotel room, just so I didn’t have to hear it anymore.”

Matt glanced at Tyler, now standing in the kitchen doorway, who shrugged philosophically, like he really just did not give a shit if Jordie sat there and doled out all his sexual secrets. “What are you gonna do? It’s fate and shit,” he pointed out. “Anyway, it was good sex,” he added, with a wicked grin at Jamie, who squirmed. He went and put the O.J. back in the fridge. Then he hunted down a shirt from the hall closet. It definitely wasn’t his though; it hung loose on him.

Matt noticed that Jamie was blushing brightly now, and his own face had begun to heat up in sympathy. “You, uh, knew right away?” he asked Jamie. 

“Yeah.” Jamie didn’t meet his eyes, fingers playing over the label on his beer bottle, working it loose. “I probably knew before that, even. Like the minute he stepped off the plane, I think.”

“That’s bullshit,” Seguin laughed. “You don’t know who you’re gonna bond with until it happens, everyone knows that.” He stood by the sofa and glanced down at Jamie, who merely gazed back up at him. Matt couldn’t tell quite what was going on, but Jamie looked less embarrassed and more certain, somehow. 

“I knew,” he repeated softly. 

Tyler just looked at him, a slow smile burning its way across his face. 

“Anyway, to answer your question, there wasn’t anything crazy about it, and I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Jamie informed Matt. 

“Wasn’t a big deal!?” Ty repeated in shock. “Get _him,_ ” he added sarcastically to Jordie. “Sure, now he’s playing it all cool, but at the time he was a hot mess.”

“He was?” Matt said, sitting up straight. “Was he nervous because your spirit animal was a dire wolf?” he asked hopefully. 

Tyler gave him a weird look. “No, it wasn’t like that. He just went from ‘We’re just good friends and everything is cool,’ to Bondzilla in about six seconds. I mean, the next thing I know he’s got the whole ceremony planned, and he’s writing out the invitations, and he’s yelling at me for forgetting to call the caterer—Jesus fucking Christ, I spent the next month and a half terrified that if everything didn’t go perfectly, it would be the end of the fucking world. His whole family coming into town, the whole works.”

Matt laughed. “Really?” 

Jordie nodded somberly. “It’s true. Jamie lost his motherfucking mind. I had to follow Segs around with a shotgun to make sure he didn’t try to wiggle out of it. Couldn’t allow him to dishonor the family name.” He mimicked a hillbilly chewing on a piece of hay, and pantomimed aiming a shotgun at Tyler.

Seguin hooted with laughter. 

“Oh, shut up,” Jamie told them both. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “My mom would have had a fit if I didn’t do it right,” he mumbled, which only seemed to make Jordie and Tyler laugh harder. There was a scratching sound. “Someone wants in,” he remarked with relief. 

“We need to look into that doggie door,” Ty told him. 

“They don’t make one big enough,” Jordie responded, getting up. “We’ll probably have to MacGyver something.” He went out into the other room and when he returned, a massive dire wolf was trotting behind him. Still, Matt had to admit, if he hadn’t known better, he probably would have thought it was a dog. It acted like a dog, anyway, bounding over and leaping up to lick Jamie’s face. 

“OFF THE COUCH,” he commanded immediately, but patted the wolf’s head when it obeyed. 

Jordie grinned. “Yeah, I don’t think Benni’s a problem. She just _looooooves_ Jamie,” he said sweetly, watching his brother glare at him. “Tyler takes her everywhere, off-roading and clubbing and even to games. She’s got her own seat, the spoiled princess.”

Jamie was ducked down in his seat now, shoulders hunched like he would prefer to disappear. 

“Benni?”

Tyler dropped into the seat next to Jamie, completely oblivious to Jamie’s discomfort or—more likely—enjoying it. Maybe it was just because of the shower, but he wasn’t wearing his wedding bracelet. Jamie’s name burned there like an ember, engraved on the soft flesh of Tyler’s inner wrist. “Oh, yeah. Of course I named her Benni. After all, they have the same big brown puppy dog eyes.”

Jamie’s face _roared_ red at this—Matt could practically _hear_ it, like a forest fire, and Tyler looked absolutely elated, laughing giddily. As Jamie rubbed his forehead, Tyler winked at Matt. “Sorry,” he said, clearly not meaning it. “It just cracks me up when he gets like that.” He flung an arm around the back of the couch, almost casually, not even actually touching Jamie. Once he was settled the dire wolf came over, plopped itself down at their feet, then propped her head on Jamie’s knee, looking up at him adoringly. 

Jamie laughed as hard as anyone, scratching her behind the ear. “Yeah, uh, so as you can see, we’re pretty much normal.”

Matt’s smile faded as he watched the wolf’s tail slap against the floor. That was how Tyler felt about Jamie. He could be cavalier and joke about it, but his emotions showed clearly on the wolf’s face. Why was it this predator had no qualms about buddying up to its prey, yet Gabe and his lion went after Matt’s throat? Maybe somewhere, deep down, that was how Gabe actually felt about him? Resented, even hated him?

He was too busy staring at the wolf to realize the room’s atmosphere had changed. 

“Matt’s not having an easy time with his soulbond,” Jamie explained softly, and Ty raised his eyebrows. “He thought we might know what the problem was, since we’re also a predator-prey bonding.”

“Huh. Well, no complaints here,” Tyler said.

“I thought maybe all predators went after the prey,” Matt explained.

“To be honest, I’ve never really thought of myself as a prey animal,” Jamie confessed. “A musk ox is a pretty formidable fucking animal. They usually don’t worry too much about dire wolves, even. Unless they’re old or sick, they can really do a number on anything that gets too close, and the wolves know it, too.”

Matt must have looked downright lost at that point, because Tyler leaned in over the coffee table. “Hey, why don’t you tell us about it? We’ll brainstorm.”

Matt managed a crooked smile. He shrugged uncomfortably. “I was at Gabe’s Quickening,” he explained. “He called a lion to him.” Seguin let out a low whistle. “Yeah, it was impressive, big time. Anyway, then I found myself falling at his fucking feet. Mated. Glowing wrists, the whole bit. Only the lion . . . something wasn’t right. The lion keeps trying to _attack_ me. It shows up at my house. And then when Gabe and I tried to . . .”

“Proceed with the mating bit?” Tyler suggested, a wicked laugh in his eyes. 

Matt sighed. “I thought it was because he was an apex predator. I mean, rare, right? He keeps trying to . . . like, he tried to rip my throat out.”

Seguin frowned. “I never had anything like _that_ happen. I mean, yeah, I can feel her, like, her appetite, if that makes sense, but I can control it. I guess if I got angry or something, she would too, and the other way around. And yeah, when she hunts, I can get the scent and feel of it and sometimes I get, um . . . wow, I could really go for a nice, rare, elk steak right now,” he said. His eyes looked sort of unfocused. 

Benni drooled all over Jamie’s lap. “Aw, man!” he yelped, wiping his hand on his jeans. “Knock it off,” he told Tyler. 

“Sorry,” Tyler told him sheepishly. “Anyway, she’s not aggressive. And she’s _never_ gone after Jamie.” He and his Mate exchanged a glance. 

“Maybe it’s because of how wolves and men relate,” Jamie said. “Wolves can be tamed.” Tyler pretended to give him a dirty look, but Jamie ignored it. “And cats can’t. Or maybe it’s Gabe.”

“Well, we went to counseling and stuff, but it doesn’t seem to help. He does okay when he’s not near me, though,” Matt admitted. 

“Shit, that’s rough,” Tyler told him. He shifted uncomfortably. “Have you thought about just waiting out the bond? Because it sounds like . . . it kind of sounds like the problem is you. I’m just saying,” he added defensively as Jamie nudged him and frowned. 

Matt’s throat squeezed so tight he couldn’t answer right away. “Maybe,” he croaked. “Maybe you’re right.” Wow, that was a thought right there. Maybe somehow he was the one who was fucked up, broken or something, and Gabe was responding to that. Story of his life, really. 

“How long has it been?” Jordie asked. 

“More than a year.”

“The initial bond can last a decade, though,” Jordie pointed out. “I mean, if you can’t be around Gabe, maybe you should ask for a trade or something. I mean, if he’s okay when you’re not near him. That would solve pretty much everything, right?”

“Hey, yeah!” Tyler brightened. “Come out and play with us!”

“Yeah, I mean, you _might_ make it as a fourth line center,” Jordie added with a wide smile.

Jamie made a scoffing noise and winked at Matt. “Fourth line hell, I played with him for Canada. I’d throw Segs over for Duchene.” Tyler elbowed him hard, laughing. Matt blushed. It felt like he was watching, like, _foreplay_ or something. The two guys just kept smiling at each other. Hell, maybe he _was_ watching foreplay, basically. The look Seguin was shooting Jamie sure as hell seemed like foreplay, all flirty and teasing. He was practically fluttering his eyelashes, leaning against Jamie’s body.

“Thanks, thanks.” But for some reason Matt had to smile. He hated the idea of bailing on Gabe, but it was nice to know his game was in demand. Roy had turned him into a competitor. 

“Landeskog, huh? He’s a pretty good left wing when he keeps his temper,” Jamie observed. “Shame about the other night.”

“That was my fault,” Matt replied softly. He pulled his sleeve up a little and looked down at his wrist. To his surprise, the writing was barely noticeable, even to him. 

“Your fault?”

Matt blinked a little. “Well, or the bond, or whatever. Apparently, when I’m threatened, he sort of loses his mind.”

Seguin hmphed at this. “Jamie never goes apeshit when _I’m_ threatened,” he complained. 

“When are you ever _threatened?_ ” Jamie replied. 

“Last week you totally let that guy at that party drop a keg on my head!”

“That was your own dumbass fault for getting under a keg in the first place,” Jamie retorted. “Anyway, how was I supposed to know he would drop it? Maybe if he threw it at you or something I might have taken notice.”

“I dunno, I say you oughta be glad to have a big, overprotective Swedish boyfriend,” Jordie opined. “I mean, hell, _I’d_ think twice about messing with you if I knew it would mean Gabe Landeskog coming after me like a freight train. Dude’s forecheck is _biblical_.” 

Matt smiled weakly. “Yeah.” It was clear they didn’t really get how bad it was, but he didn’t have the heart to tell them. “Well, I should probably be getting back. Thanks for your advice, guys.”

“Yeah, good luck with the everything,” Jordie replied. 

He shook a couple of hands, got some backslaps, and headed out. 

“What are you gonna do now?” Seguin asked as he was leaving. 

Matt thought about it and shrugged. “I’m gonna ask for help,” he replied.


	6. May 3, 2014:  The Summit

Matt wanted to talk things over with Gabe first, but he wasn’t picking up his phone. Matt was feeling horrible—anxious and lost and sad. He tried to tell himself he should wait and talk to Gabe, but there was a big storm front coming in. Spring storms could be the worst. Colorado was high and dry, and the added spring moisture meant, if the temperatures were right, you got a hell of a blizzard. And all the meteorologists could predict was that this one would be unpredictable. 

In the end, Matt decided to take charge. If Gabe wasn’t going to deal with this, then Matt would just have to do it for him. He met Joe and Patrick that morning for coffee. 

Matt wished it happened under better circumstances. Joe Sakic looked stylish and composed in a charcoal pea coat that matched his dark—though greying—hair, and Patrick just looked friendly and open, his kind blue eyes smiling at Matt. Here were the two men he admired most all his life—well, if they couldn’t figure something out, no one could. 

After receiving their piping hot coffee, Matt asked if they could sit outside despite the ominous weather. He didn’t want anyone to overhear. The clouds were so low that they obscured the mountains, disorienting Matt a little. Instead of the usual great view, there was nothing but white and grey and hush all around. Occasionally a car _shizzed_ past them, kicking up slush, but those were the only pops of color and sound in the monochromatic landscape. Even the buildings here were a dun color, their colorful awnings muted by a thin layer of snow. 

The wrought iron chair was uncomfortably cold, but Matt hardly noticed. His anxiety was at an all-time high. 

“What did you want to discuss?” Sakic asked gently. 

Matt felt sick. He’d wanted to pattern his whole life after Joe Sakic, and now he would have to admit he’d been lying to the man for more than a year. He was sure Joe never would have done that. He was a stand up guy, not a fuckup like Matt. “I have something to tell you. And if you want to trade me afterward or even bench me forever, I won’t blame you,” he said morosely. 

Patrick and Joe exchanged a glance, eyebrows raised. 

“To bench or trade one of our best player would be pretty extreme,” Patrick told him. Matt grimaced; he knew the guy was just trying to stroke his ego and make him feel better. 

“Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

The whole story tumbled out; Matt told them about Gabe’s Quickening, and the way the Mating urge hit him like a bolt of lightning, and how the lion had acted strangely, and how Gabe couldn’t seem to control himself around Matt. He explained that the lion kept coming around and that Gabe seemed to become dangerous too, and how he’d been in counseling and everything. 

“And I know I should have told you earlier, but I was afraid of what would happen to Gabe—and the team,” Matt finished. “But when he attacked Coyle, I knew I had to say something.”

“Gabe Landeskog?” Patrick repeated. “You are bonded to Gabe Landeskog?” Matt nodded and took off his mitten and worked up his sleeve. The name was still there, but just barely. Joe and Patrick stared at it. “That explain a lot,” Patrick noted. “Like why he follow you everywhere, why he get so upset when someone touch you, and why sometime when he walk by you suddenly go all starry-eyed and goofy.”

Matt’s eyes widened. “I don’t! Do I?” He pulled his mitten back on; temperatures were plummeting.

“Hahah, sometime you get this look like you maybe want to ask for his autograph but are too scared he will say no,” Patrick informed him.

“Oh, God,” Matt moaned. It was probably an accurate description even if it wasn’t technically Gabe’s autograph he was craving, nor the idea of rejection that scared him.

Joe looked troubled. “This is pretty big,” he admitted. “It’s not going to look good for the team.”

Matt looked down at his coffee, which had gone cold, clutched in his fuzzy mittens. Fat snowflakes were starting to fall all around him. “You think I’ll get a suspension?” he asked. 

“I’m not concerned about disciplinary action right now,” Sakic informed him. “The foremost thing on my mind is getting Gabe treated.”

“Please don’t trade one of us,” Matt blurted. “I . . . I’d like the chance to work it out, if possible.”

Joe looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m not necessarily suggesting that, but we definitely ought to have him examined by the best medical professionals. You don’t want the bond to die?” he asked, and Matt couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought those dark blue eyes were smiling just a little.

“I guess not,” Matt mumbled. How could he explain he’d gotten used to Gabe, that the bond had had perks too, even if it did drawbacks?

“Well, I’m going to make some calls,” Joe told him. “But don’t worry, we’ll keep this confidential for now. Where is Gabe?”

“Probably at home. He’s not picking up his cell,” Matt explained. “He’s been pretty upset about things and I guess he doesn’t want to talk about it just now.”

“I’ll see if I can reach him,” Joe promised. He stood up and clapped Matt on the back. “Just hang in there, kid. You did right by telling us. I know right now it feels like it’s all too much, but we’ll get something figured out. And I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He went to make some calls, leaving Matt and Patrick sitting outside the now-deserted coffee shop in the snow.

“Meanwhile, I think that maybe you should get some rest,” Patrick suggested. “I am not try to be rude but you look like hell.”

“How can I get some rest with this hanging over my head?” Matt complained. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else since the game. I just wish there were something I could do to help.”

“You will not do anyone any good if you work yourself to a state of exhaustion over this,” Roy told him. He patted Matt on the shoulder. 

“I just want to be useful,” Matt muttered. 

“Why don’t you go home and make a list of all the thing that happen?” Patrick said. “We are gonna call some professional in, and they will want a detail history. So why don’t you go home and write it all down? Start from the beginning,” Roy advised.

“Mmm,” Matt hummed without committing himself. He was all keyed up. He couldn’t just go home and _write._

“Okay, I’m going to get out of here before I have to dig my car out. I will have my cell, okay? You need anything, you call me. We get this straightened,” Patrick promised. 

“Thanks.” Matt sipped at his now tepid coffee and watched Patrick walk away, snowflakes clinging to his hair and contrasting against his dark jacket. Matt sighed. He couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. Suddenly he sat up straight. _Start from the beginning,_ he thought. He could do that. He could at least do that.

oOoOoOo

When Matt arrived at the lodge in the foothills on his snowcat it was just before noon and the snow had given him a reprieve. There was still plenty of snow, though; the foothills always got it good. On any other day, it would have been a joy to go roaring through the snow, scaring up rabbits and foxes and making the mammoths in the distance a little edgy, but today he was all nerves.

The lodge was alive with lights and music. Matt went in hesitantly, knowing he was out of place, but he needed answers. There was an Indian family celebrating inside, their bright clothing a riot of beautiful color against the dark wood of the lodge and the stark snow built up in the windows. 

Matt bumped into one of the men and apologized. He offered a nervous smile. “Successful Quickening?”

Rather than being upset at Matt for crashing the party, the man pushed a drink at him with a wide smile. “My niece!” he exclaimed, proudly pointing to a woman at the center of attention. “Black bear! And pre-med, too.”

“Wow, that’s great! You must be very proud. Um. Is the Spirit Caller around?”

The man pointed him in the right direction, and Matt eased his way through the partiers, offering smiles and nods and congratulations. When Matt approached the Spirit Caller he said, “Uh, hi. I don’t know if you remember me . . .” The look on the man’s face told him everything. “Yeah, okay, you remember me. Well, uh, can I talk to you? It’s really important.”

The man led him back out through the vestibule and to his office, which was down a short hallway. “I’m Matt, by the way,” Matt said. “Matt Duchene.” The office was small, but had lots of windows. Every wall that didn’t have one was covered with pictures of animals.

“Demetrius Harper,” the man replied dryly, shaking Matt’s hand. “Yes, I remember you,” he said. “You are a very lucky man. Bad things happen to people who come between the Unquickened and their Intended.” He gestured for Matt to take a seat. 

“Hah, yeah,” Matt said, adjusting his pants and taking a seat. “Like getting ripped to shreds.”

“Mmm. Or worse.” 

“Well, he wasn’t Unquickened at that point.”

“I beg to differ,” Mr. Harper told him. “From my vantage, I could see the bond had _not_ been firmly established. You really could have been killed.”

Matt was abashed. “I’m sorry.”

Harper sighed. “What’s done is done. Can I top you up?” he nodded to the glass the Indian man had given Matt. 

“What? Oh. Sure.” Matt had almost forgotten he had it. Mr. Harper went to a cabinet and pulled out a decanter of brandy and poured a little into a glass for him, and a slosh into Matt’s as well. 

“To successful Quickenings,” the man said, raising his glass. 

“Or not so successful Quickenings,” Matt replied ruefully. “That’s actually why I . . .” One of the pictures on the wall was a mountain lion, and Matt trailed off, staring at it. Then he blinked. “Wait, so I really did get between Gabe and the lion before the Quickening had, er, taken?”

“Undoubtedly. Jesus, I should have realized sooner. I should have . . . there’s liability here. We’re going to have to put up a boundary between witnesses and—”

Matt set his glass down on the man’s desk and leaned forward urgently. “Wait. You said bad things happen to people who get between Unquickened men and their spirit animals. And I assumed that meant death, but then you said, _Or worse._ What did you mean, ‘or worse?’ What’s worse? Because I got between Gabe and the lion and I . . . Gabe and I bonded. That was why I went down there. Because of the bond. He was my Mate, and I felt it, and I had to—” Matt stopped short at the look on the man’s face. “Oh, my God. It really _was_ my fault, wasn’t it?” His voice climbed higher. “I got between Gabe and the lion and I screwed something up, didn’t I? Because the bond hadn’t finished forming, and I—I didn’t mean to—I just saw this lion, and I needed to protect Gabe, so I tried to put myself between the—I mean, kind of like how if you’re in a car with a passenger and you have to slam on your brakes, you always fling your arm out even if they’re wearing a seatbelt? I mean, I didn’t mean to. It was just instinct!”

The man let out a long breath, looking sick. “There are very few instances of it happening. I can call my colleague out of Decatur, she’s an expert in this.” He groaned, leaning back in his chair. “This could cost me my license, you realize.”

Matt glared at him. “What’s it going to cost _me?_ ” 

The man waved a hand. “The bond can be severed in a worst case scenario.”

“But what _happened?_ ”

“Sometimes, very rarely, an intended soulmate is present at a Quickening. If said soulmate has already Quickened, then he or she is of Mateable age. Do you follow?”

Matt nodded. “Yes, I Quickened earlier that summer, so it was possible for me to Mate.”

“Yes. And when Mr. Landeskog began to Quicken, it became possible for him to Mate, as well. Since you were so close, the call would have affected you very strongly. And you reached him before the bond to the lion had fully formed, thus likely interfering and partially bonding to the lion yourself.”

“ _Bonding to the lion?_ ” Matt repeated in horror. “Is _that_ what happened?” 

“One can only surmise. As I said, I’ll have to confer with Dr. Whitney. She’ll have done studies . . . as I said, it’s very rare. And it’s _never_ happened with a predator of this size. My God, I’ve only read of one other case like this! Back in the 60s it happened to a couple in Tacoma—short faced bear. The woman got between the bear and her Mate and the bear attacked. She couldn’t handle the bond. That’s what I’ve read—that in predator cases, the Mate rarely survives. You’ll be rare. You’ll be very rare.” He wiped his face. “You know, rather than destroying my career, you might _make_ it. I’ll be the first to have witnessed this. I can publish. Do I have your permission to publish?”

Matt ignored this. “What do you mean, the Mate rarely survives!?”

Mr. Harper was looking wild now, running his hands through his hair. “The bond becomes unstable. With two prey soulmates or, say, a fox or something similar, something small, eventually a balance will be reached. Two people can bond to the same animal. But a large predator, right at the beginning, before the bond can stabilize—usually it attacks and kills. Because neither partner would yet have full control over the animal.”

“Well, Gabe _still_ doesn’t have full control,” Matt told him. “And the lion keeps trying to attack me.”

Harper wiped his forehead, which was sweating. “That’s one possibility.”

“What do you mean, ‘ _possibility?_ ’” Matt replied scornfully. “I was there, so I should know.”

The man shrugged. “Mr. Landeskog accepted the bond, so _you_ would be the one who doesn’t have full control.” Matt felt the blood drain from his face. It really was his fault. Beginning to end, the whole thing was entirely his fault. “But if you complete the bond, yes. Yes, it might work.”

Matt stared at him. “Jesus!” He found he was shaking, literally, his hands trembling. “I need to tell Gabe,” he whispered. 

“Mr. Duchene, I will call Dr. Whitney immediately—could I _please_ persuade you to allow me to publish—”

“Fine—well, whatever, I need to ask Gabe, first. Look, there are way more important things going on than your stupid career. Our everything is at stake!” Matt got out his cell and dialed Gabe again, but he still didn’t pick up. Matt stuffed the phone back in his pocket, growling in frustration. “Look, I’m going to go out and see him. I’ll kick the door in if I have to. Then we’ll—” he stopped short. “What can we do?”

“It’s your decision. We can sever the bonds—they are tangled now, so it would be both bonds—or you can attempt to bond with the lion.”

Matt shuddered. “That would be, uh, dangerous, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, we would take every precaution,” Harper assured him. “I’ll make some calls. I can—we can Call it, I’ll have someone ready with a tranquilizer gun—you will be _entirely_ safe.”

Matt let out a long breath, the tension in his chest easing. “Oh, that’s great.” He really hadn’t wanted to lose the bond, now that he thought about it. “We should do it as soon as possible.” 

“I’ll make some calls. Right away.”

Matt felt a huge sense of relief. Everything was going to be okay. He pulled up his sleeve a little and peeked at his wrist. To his consternation, the words had faded so much that they looked like an old scar, barely noticeable. “Mr. Harper, you seem to know something about soulmates as well as spirit animals.”

“I double majored.”

“What happens if a mark starts fading?”

“It means the window of opportunity is closing. You have two options at that point: do the ceremony to seal the bond, or let it die.”

Matt’s mouth was dry. “How . . . how long does it take?”

The Spirit Caller shrugged. “Days. Up to a week, or sometimes a little more. Is your mark fading?”

Matt nodded. “What happens if the bond dies?”

Harper shook his head. “I honestly couldn’t say. It should break the bonds to both Mr. Landeskog _and_ the spirit animal, which would be ideal.”

Matt swallowed and fidgeted, trying not to rub his wrist. He’d noticed the mark fading a couple of days ago. It could break—could _die_ anytime now. And would might be the end of everything. No more lion problems. No more nightmares. No more trying to hide stuff from his teammates and friends, and no more trying to figure out how to explain himself to his extended family. 

And no more Gabe.

They’d still be friends, of course, but it would be real different. They could hang out and go to movies and hit Red Rocks and even play together, but there wouldn’t be any more soppy looks from Gabe, and there wouldn’t be any more clumsy attempts at seduction, and there wouldn’t be any more writhing under Gabe’s body on the sofa, feeling his cock stiff against Matt’s stomach. And when Matt scored a goal, his pleasure would no longer get a boost of shimmering elation from Gabe. And when he’d had a bad day, he wouldn’t feel Gabe’s sympathy, warm in his stomach. 

When he eventually did have a ceremony to seal him to someone forever, that someone wouldn’t be Gabe. 

And when Gabe promised someone forever, it wouldn’t be Matt. 

It was the emptiest, most awful thing Matt could ever remember feeling. Worse than getting knocked out of the playoffs. Worse than getting injured. Worse than years of Sacco. Then Matt blinked. Come to think of it, he’d been feeling pretty terrible for the past couple of days. Like, really down. He wondered if he was catching a cold or something. 

Matt stood up. “I really have to go.”

“Keep me updated,” the Spirit Caller told him.

oOoOoOo

Matt knocked on Gabe’s door several times, feeling panic rise. Finally a neighbor stuck her head out into the hall and told him he wasn’t home. “He left about half an hour ago,” she explained.

Matt swallowed hard and got out his own key. Gabe had given it to him, saying he really wanted the two of them to live together, but even if Matt only ended up staying once in a while, he wanted Matt to feel welcome to come over any time. Matt should have just used it, but he’d thought he would be intruding on Gabe’s privacy at a time when the guy was really upset.

And he was really upset. 

Matt recognized that now, that a lot of his bad feelings must be coming from Gabe because even now, with the solution to all their problems at hand, Matt was still feeling awful, a pit of misery in the bottom of his stomach. 

He unlocked the door and went in. Where could Gabe have gone? Why wasn’t he answering his phone? Matt had called on his way over to give him the good news, but his voicemail was full. And Gabe’s feelings were making him uneasy. He felt so alone. He shouldn’t feel so alone. Matt tried to send warm, happy vibes out, comforting vibes, but they didn’t seem to make a dent in the despair that echoed back at him. 

What the hell was going on? 

He paced through Gabe’s apartment nervously. He usually loved Gabe’s place, all bright colors and clean lines, a warm, simple place, but right now it felt decidedly empty. 

He took out his cell phone and called Patrick. “I’m at Gabe’s place. I let myself in, but he isn’t here.”

“He has not been returning anyone’s call,” Patrick said. He sounded worried. You knew things were serious when Patrick sounded worried. “You got no idea where he could be?”

“No, I don’t. Patrick, I went to the Spirit Caller and talked to him about the bond. He says—” Matt stopped and had to swallow hard. “He thinks it’s my fault, because when the Mating started, the bond to the lion was still forming. I . . . I got between Gabe and the lion. He says I might have taken on part of the bond.”

Patrick exclaimed loudly in French. Matt wasn’t sure what it meant, but it sounded surprised. 

“Yeah. So, uh, he says there are steps we can take. But I can’t find Gabe and it’s really—” Matt spotted something on the table by the front door. It was an envelope, and it had his name printed on it. He hurried and ripped it open.

“You still there?” 

Matt scanned the letter, his heart sinking. “Can I call you right back?”

“Sure. I’ll give Joe a call and have him get to work on this, okay?”

“Yeah.” Matt set his phone down and sank into the nearest chair, feeling weak. _Not good. Not good at all._

 _Dutchy,_ the letter read, _I’m really sorry about everything. I know you’re going to hate me for this, but I lied to you. I’ve known for a long time how to fix things. Dr. Brown knew, but because of doctor/patient confidentiality, she couldn’t tell you._

Matt felt his stomach drop. 

_I can break the bond to the lion, Matt. It was always an option, but I kept looking for a different way. For one thing, sometimes people don’t live through a broken spirit bond. And if I break the bond, it’s gone forever. That’s the thing about spirit animals; you only get one chance. It will leave me Unquickened for good._

_And it will break the bond to you, too._

_That’s the part I just couldn’t live with. I know. It’s really selfish of me._

_After it’s broken, I won’t be able to Mate. But Dr. Brown said there’s a good chance you will, and that’s what I want most._

_I kept hoping I could control it, but I couldn’t. I kept telling myself it would get better, but it’s worse. I could have killed Coyle. Worse, I might hurt you. I’m a danger to everyone around me, and that’s not acceptable. And more than anything, I don’t want to hurt you. I really love you, Dutchy. I hope you know that. I’m sorry. I’ve been really selfish. I kept hoping I could find a way to have my cake and eat it, too. I know I fucked up, lying about it and refusing to fix it. I hope you can forgive me. I’m so, so sorry I put you in danger._

_So anyway, I’m going to do the right thing. I can feel her, up in the mountains somewhere. I’m going to find her, the lion, and break the bond, and then at least you will be okay._

“Oh, no,” Matt said out loud. “No, no, no, shit, shit, this can’t be happening.” They could fix this! They didn’t have to lose the bond!

_Again, I’m sorry. I fucked up. I hope I can fix it. I’ll try my hardest._

_And maybe, when I come back, well. I guess I shouldn’t even hope. You can find another Mate, and I want that, even if it hurts. But I desperately want a chance to be with you, even if we’re not real Mates. Even if it’s not the same. I know it’s the closest I’ll ever have. But even if it doesn’t work out or you’re too angry to give me another chance . . . thank you for being my Mate. I know it wasn’t your first choice but you tried really hard, and I was certainly proud to be with you._

_Love,_  
_Your Mate (for a little while longer, anyway),_  
_Gabe_

“Damn it, you idiot,” Matt muttered. He wadded up the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. He ran for the elevator. On his drive out, he called Patrick. “Listen, Gabe did something stupid.”

Patrick swore in French.

“Huh?”

“Oh, God, it is not a suicide, is it? I was worried for him about that.”

“No! No, but it’s bad. Gabe found out he can sever the bond from the lion. But he’s doing it himself without supervision and I know that’s bad, and anyway that will break _our_ bond, and he won’t be able to Quicken again,” Matt babbled. “He could really hurt himself and he’s doing this all alone.”

“How can we stop him?”

“I don’t know.” Matt heaved a sigh. He reached out for his mastodons, trying to find that calm that he needed so much to think straight now, but at the moment, all he could feel was a powerful, restless distraction. He tried to push it away but it kept coming back. Suddenly the reason for this hit him so hard that he slammed on his brakes. The guy behind him laid on the horn and swerved into the other lane. Shaken, Matt pulled over. 

“What the hell was that?” Patrick demanded. “You put down your fucking cell when you drive. You gonna get yourself killed.”

“Patty,” Matt breathed. “Listen! I think I can find him.”

“You know where he is?”

“Not exactly. I can’t feel him exactly. But I can feel the lion. And Patrick . . . I think it’s trying to Call me to it.” Patrick was quiet. Matt wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I think that’s what it’s been doing from the beginning. It was trying to get to me. It was sending me dreams and showing up at my house. It wasn’t trying to eat me, Patrick. It was trying to complete the bond.”

“How you know all this?” Patrick asked him. 

“I talked to the Caller that was at Gabe’s Quickening. He said when I got between them, I picked up part of the bond. And Gabe left me a note and said he could feel the lion in the mountains. When I reached out for my mastodons, I felt something else. I kept trying to push it away, but then I realized where it was coming from.”

“Hell,” Patrick said with a sigh. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I have to,” Matt told him honestly. “But, um, I’d like your help.”

“You know you got that. But it will be dangerous. This is a lion, Matt. It is not your average pussy cat. And condition in the mountain are not good. We got a lot of snow recently and you know spring snow—it is heavy. The forecast is bad and the roads will be, too.”

“Yeah, but what else can I do? I’m the only one who can feel where they went. Look, if you’ll . . . if you’ll call search and rescue, get them on standby, I’ll give you updates on where I’m headed. Then if I get into trouble—or Gabe gets into trouble—they’ll have an idea of where to look.”

“I can do that,” Patrick agreed. 

“Great,” Matt said. “Look, I’m gonna charge my phone for a little while and head up I-70. I’ll call when I feel closer, okay?”

“You be careful.”

“Okay,” Matt told him, and hung up. He pulled back out into traffic, glancing grimly in his rearview mirror. He’d keep Patrick updated, but not _too_ updated. He had a feeling the authorities wouldn’t let a civilian like him just go traipsing into the backcountry before they’d made plans, soulmate or no soulmate. Matt glanced at his wrist. He just couldn’t waste the time. Gabe could find the lion and sever the bond, or the bond could die anytime. He had to get up there as soon as he could. 

He sighed. “Hang in there, Gabe,” he muttered. “I’m coming.”

oOoOoOo

Matt passed through Idaho Springs, then called Patty just after passing Georgetown. They’d probably have state troopers waiting for him on I-70 approaching Silver Plume, but that was okay, because he’d already turned off on Guanella Pass. He was close now, he could feel it. The car bumped along the washboard road, churning his already mixed feelings; the lion, frustrated, fixated, calling to him, a hunger it did not understand, and also its feelings for Gabe, nervous, wary, helpless to stop the wretchedness, the desolation he emanated. And Matt could feel those feelings, too. Whatever Gabe thought would happen when he severed the bond, he _felt_ like he was going to his death. He was bitter, full of self-recrimination, and resigned—yet longing, absolutely _aching_ to be with Matt.

Matt drove as fast as he could, reaching out frequently for any nearby mastodons, clutching at their tranquility and composure, and trying to make it his own. They were out there, near enough, but he couldn’t seem to make it stick. And no wonder, with Gabe’s despair, the lion’s confusion, and Matt’s own frantic fear all crowding his head. 

He came around a corner and skidded to a stop in the slush. The snow wasn’t falling so heavy now, but it had been wet and thick when it did. There was a roadblock, and the guy putting it up came over to the truck. “Sorry, man,” the guy said. “Avalanche danger is too high. You’ll have to find another route to 285.”

Fuck, that was ironic. Matt could have argued—or even just tried driving around or hell, even _through_ it—but he put the truck in reverse. The last thing he needed was an argument. “Okay, thanks. Will do,” he said in a clipped voice. He carefully turned around, took the corner as fast as he dared, and made his way straight back to the nearest pull off. The lion was close. He thought Gabe was close, too. And he had a way. 

He trudged through the snow, insensate to the cold, for nearly twenty minutes when the mastodon showed up. It was an old bull, one tusk chipped, scars on its flanks. It had definitely seen a few battles. This wasn’t the way Matt would have preferred it, but right now beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Hey, man,” he said as soothingly as he could. “I need your help, buddy.” He walked closer, but the bull reared a little, tossing its head suspiciously. “I getcha; I’m giving off a whiff of fear and desperation,” Matt murmured. “But if you’ll help me, we’ll all be okay.” He tried to stay calm. He thought about stuff O’Reilly taught him and tried to find his center. He couldn’t fuck this up. This wasn’t the same Matty Duchene who jumped in front of a lion because he’d thought Gabe couldn’t handle it himself. This wasn’t the same Matt who let his fears and frustrations take root inside his head and trip him up. This wasn’t the same Matt who couldn’t work with anyone—who didn’t trust anyone enough to let them help. He took deep, even breaths, let himself find that peace inside, that place where things were all right. Then he stepped toward the bull again. 

The bull knelt and Matt let out a huge sigh of relief. Yes, this would work. 

It was a bit of a struggle, but he managed to clamber up onto the beast’s back. He’d done it a few times, but that hadn’t prepared him for this—trekking up a mountain through thick snow, trying to keep his balance as the great animal swayed side to side, picking its path carefully. Matt only gave it the slightest mental nudge now and then, just enough to keep it going in the right direction. He let the mastodon choose its own path; it knew exactly what it could handle, and Matt didn’t. Matt just had to trust it. 

At the summit of the pass, they turned towards Mount Bierstadt, craggy and covered in ice, now burnished gold by the setting sun. 

He tried to meditate. It should have been easier with the beast right there to commune with, but Gabe’s feelings were a riot of pain and frustration. The lion was close, Matt could tell. So close. 

There was a rumble in the distance, like muffled thunder, and for a moment Matt felt the world tremble. He held his breath, but it passed after a short time. What the hell was that? He looked around wildly, but nothing seemed different. He stopped the mastodon, hesitant, listening. 

Suddenly he realized that while he couldn’t _hear_ anything, he didn’t _feel_ anything, either. It was as if the rush of Gabe’s feelings had been shut off by a spigot. 

Feeling panicked, Matt urged his mount to move faster. Fuck. What the fuck? What happened? Did he manage to sever the bond? 

They churned through the snow in the dying light. Matt kept reaching, questing for emotions not his own. At the edge of his consciousness, he seemed to feel a dim unease. Gabe? A mastodon some great distance away? Or possibly the lion? If it was the lion, it was a tenuous connection for sure. But why would he be able to feel the lion and not be able to feel Gabe?

The only time since the Quickening he had not been able to feel Gabe was when Gabe was in NREM sleep—totally unconscious and not dreaming. It had been a brief blessing in Europe, to get those quiet moments when Matt felt like his own man again. Now it instilled a sick fear. He didn’t want to lose the bond now. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to wait for someone ‘better.’ He wanted Gabe. 

As he and the mastodon rounded a curve, the trees thinned and he saw an expanse of snow cutting off his route. _An avalanche,_ he thought grimly. That explained it. Gabe was hurt. At best, he was unconscious. He could be dead! Matt slid off the bull’s back and into the deep snow, struggling forward. He knew it was fucking stupid, but his brain didn’t seem to be doing much. All the panic and confusion had brought it to a total standstill, and he was going on instinct. 

As he waded through the heavy, wet snow, up to his thighs, he heard a thundering roar. The lion padded toward him, over the top of the snow, only sinking in here and there. It looked ferocious, and the mastodon reared in terror. 

Matt’s heart froze. 

Mentally, he had to sort of _leap_ into the mastodon, sending firm reassurances. He couldn’t let it run off, or he’d be in real trouble. It rocked its head from side to side, trying to keep an eye on the lion, but it stayed put. 

Matt turned back to the cat. He could feel it, just a little, its confusion and aggravation. But it was not like the bond to his mastodons; it felt thin and flimsy, just a thread of alien emotion. 

It lowered its head and slinked toward him. Matt’s heart leapt into his throat, his ears ringing. God, it was only feet away. He had _one little thread_ to control the animal, like trying to lasso it with a piece of string. 

“Hey,” he said in a wobbly voice. “Nice kitty. Good kitty.” He licked his lips, very aware of the compact snow encasing his legs. _Holy shit,_ he thought. It was just like his old nightmare. He wouldn’t be able to run, whatever happened. He would have to face the lion, like it or not. He reached out to the animal. To his fascination, he could see his hand shaking, even though he didn’t think he was afraid. It didn’t feel like it was connected to him. It felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. 

He had to do this. 

Taking a deep breath, he did his best to sort of kneel in the snow. This didn’t work very well, because his movement was severely limited, but he hoped for the best. Now came the hard part. He had to keep the mastodon under control, calm himself, and somehow, reach out to the cat and connect with it, and master it. 

He had to master a lion. 

If it didn’t work, if he couldn’t control it, it would kill him right there—and Gabe would certainly die, of exposure if he hadn’t been killed outright by the flow of snow and debris.

Instead of thinking about it, he concentrated on Gabe. He let the memories tick over in his mind; Gabe’s cheesy grin, Gabe’s steady hand, the way Gabe could go out on the ice and level a guy, that grit and determination he had. Most of all, he thought about the way Gabe looked at him, eyes shining with pride, like Matt was something special, like Matt was worth all the crazy shit they’d gone through. Well, Gabe was worth it, too. 

Matt closed his eyes. 

He could feel it, the bond, like a tunnel now, open and pulling at him, the lion’s feelings amplified. He felt resentment: Gabe had chased it up here, and it had sensed his purpose. It was tired. It had not been satisfied since the Quickening. The winter was hard, and it wanted to end this now and hunt. It needed a kill. Matt could feel all of this inside of him, not words, but yearnings, base feelings that came with a whirl of images—Gabe, Matt, deer, the darkness of the shadows of the trees, and tracks in the snow to be followed, and yes, that urge to hunt, that lunge, that—

Matt sucked in a breath and pushed his own emotions forward: calmness. Control. That perfect serenity when you have a task to do and the next step is an easy one. And Gabe. Love and unity and family. _Peace._

“Come on, now,” he whispered. “Come here. Come to me.”

He felt warm breath against his fingers and for a moment he was sure he would lose his hand at the wrist—if he was lucky—but then something soft and warm was thrust against his outstretched hand and he opened his eyes, and yes, there it was. There she was. The lion, nuzzling his palm. 

_Relief._

Matt knew they _both_ felt it, not like with the mastodon, but similar. Peace, yes, but overwhelming relief, because the chase was over. There was no more to fear. They were one. And he had taken the lion’s frustration and confusion and wiped it away, and it loved him for that. 

  


Matt couldn’t remember ever feeling so powerful—it was dizzying. But then he remembered Gabe, and he stood, shivering, and looking around frantically. Oh, God. What had happened to Gabe? Where was he? 

Promptly, the lion turned away, headed for a spot in the snow where something red stuck out—Gabe’s hat— and started to dig. Matt made to join her, but he couldn’t; the snow was just too deep. 

He turned back to the mastodon. 

It didn’t want to come, and when he tried to force it, the lion became unsettled, backing away as the beast moved toward her. 

Frustrated, Matt tried to find that zen place inside him again, that world where he wasn’t in control but he didn’t need control, where everything was still. It took quite an effort, but he maintained it, going to the mastodon in a sort of sleepwalk and climbing astride it. The world seemed to move so slowly as the mastodon labored through the dense snow, the lion tense, but still. Finally Matt was close enough. He got down and began to dig with his hands, and—yes! 

Oh, God, he never thought he’d be so happy to see that crown of blond hair. The lion joined him to dig as well, and pretty soon Gabe was almost free, except for one leg that seemed to be trapped under a fallen tree. He didn’t look too bad, considering, and he was breathing. 

“Gabe,” he said. “You okay? I’m here. We’re gonna get you out of here. You’ll be fine, I promise.” He still couldn’t tell whether Gabe could hear him—or feel him. Was the bond still okay? Matt wasn’t sure if he’d still have been able to bond to the lion if Gabe had severed his own bond. He got out his cell: one bar. He called Patrick. “Help,” he said. “We’re . . . we’re somewhere up on Mount Bierstadt. Gabe got caught in an avalanche. I can’t tell how bad it is.”

Patrick sucked in a breath. “You are safe, though?”

“Well, more or less. And Gabe is still breathing.”

“You have him?”

“Yeah. Well, yeah. But his leg is stuck and I can’t get him out.” There was a noise, a soft noise from the earth, one that made Matt flinch. “But, uh, I don’t think we’re in a good spot here. I don’t think the snow has completely settled yet.”

Gabe moaned. Matt was so startled he dropped the phone. “Shit!” It took him a minute to dig it out of the snow. “He’s waking up.”

“Dutchy?” Gabe looked tired. “What happened?”

Confusion. _Gabe’s_ confusion, to Matt’s joy. “Hey! Hey! You’re alive! Thank God! You _idiot!_ What the _fuck_ was that, you _fucking asshole!?_ You scared the fuck out of me! Jesus Christ, are you hurt? Where does it hurt? Your leg is stuck; I can’t get you loose. Can you move? Is your head sore? Maybe I should use my flashlight app, try to see if you have a concussion.” Matt discovered he was shaking like a leaf.

Gabe just smiled at him. “How come I feel like I got hit by a ton of bricks, but I feel good? I don’t remember the last time I felt this good. Relaxed, you know? Like I could do this all day?”

“That’s a long story, but basically I worked the lion thing out.”

Gabe stared at him for a moment, then broke out in that goofy, adoring grin he had, and Matt shook his head. He did not have time to be feeling all sappy. If he didn’t do something soon, they were both going to die of exposure. 

There was a rumble up the hill, and Gabe’s eyes widened. “ _That’s_ not good.”

“Patrick, are you still there?”

“Yes. Dutchy, we are in for another storm,” Patrick told him. “It is not look so good out there.”

“I don’t think the mountain’s done with us,” Matt said. “There might be another avalanche.”

Patrick let out a long breath. “Listen, I think you need to get yourself to some place safe.”

“No. Not without Gabe.”

“You should go,” Gabe said. “Please. This is what I want.”

“I don’t care,” Matt insisted. “If something happens, we go together.”

Patrick sighed. “Can you move the tree?”

“No. It’s big and most of it is buried.”

“Use your mastodon. Call on your spirit. I will notify the search and rescue team. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Matt hung up and turned to the tree. He motioned for the mastodon to grasp it, even as he feared he’d bring the whole mountain down on their head. The creature strained mightily, its muscles working beneath the fur, but it couldn’t budge the thing. 

“Maybe the lion could help,” Gabe suggested. They glanced at her, but she just wasn’t built for it. 

Matt sighed. He could do what Gabe did—what Suter did—and take the mastodon into himself. But that was such a risk. When Gabe and Suter did it, they were doing human tasks, albeit in a very animalistic way. But this was beyond what a man could do, and calling on the mastodon’s power might give him that strength—but in the end it could also hurt him badly. It was a power man wasn’t meant to wield. There was another groan from the earth, and Matt made up his mind. He had to try. He couldn’t leave Gabe like this. With the bull on one side, pulling, and the lion beside him, Matt grasped the tree. 

“What are you doing?” Gabe demanded.

For just a moment, he felt raw power pour through his tired, aching body, a heady potency and brawn he’d never experienced, and the tree shifted. 

Gabe jerked his leg free. “Dutchy!” He scrambled out of the snow, looking stiff, but too worried about Matt to care about himself. “What the hell was that? You could hurt yourself! You know that’s a fucking dangerous thing to do.” He grabbed Matt’s shoulders as Matt suddenly found it hard to stand. He was sore all over—so sore. Gabe put an arm around his waist, looking at him with concern. They leaned on each other, both of them nearly exhausted. “Dutchy,” Gabe murmured, pressing his lips softly to Matt’s temple.

After a long moment to gather his strength, Matt stood up. “Come on. The mastodon. He’s familiar with this area. He knows where to go.” 

“I am not so sure about this,” Gabe said as they approached the towering beast. The bull backed away a little as if it was just as uncertain. 

Matt was tired—so tired. He wasn’t sure if he had anything left to draw on. Just as he thought he might not be able to keep going, a snarl jolted him. The lion was there, growling, as if she were berating him for his thoughts of quitting. He reached out to her and touched her lightly on her head. To his surprise, he felt a rush of warmth and energy. She had reached out to him, her bond partner, and given him some of her energy. He looked at her in amazement as Gabe tugged at his elbow.

“I think the bus is ready to leave,” he joked. The bull had knelt and was waiting impatiently. Snow was beginning to fall again. They hastily climbed up onto the back of the mastodon, Gabe behind Matt, arms around his waist. “Smelly beast,” Gabe remarked. 

“ _That_ is the sweet smell of success,” Matt told him primly. 

Gabe nuzzled his cheek and Matt elbowed him a little, because dammit, his beard was scratchy as heck. “Actually, it kind of smells like you,” Gabe said. “In a good way!” he hurried to add. “Like, um, an animal musk.”

“Yeah, right.”

It was not easy, and Gabe was not a natural rider, but they managed. The mastodon waded through the deep snow, slipping occasionally, while the lion scouted ahead, finding the best path. They cleared the avalanche and headed down the side of the mountain. Snow was falling heavily now. In minutes, they could barely see ten feet in front of them. Snowflakes whirled and eddied all around them, blinding them. 

Gabe leaned against Matt’s back, his arms tight around him, resting his chin on Matt’s shoulder. “So where are we going?”

“Beats me,” Matt admitted. He wasn’t sure he even cared anymore. The mastodon knew where to go. Matt was happy to leave it all up to the bull and concentrate on staying awake.

Matt’s phone rang. “This is probably going to be my last call,” he muttered. “Battery is almost dead.” Patrick was calling.

“Guys, they are calling off the search,” he said. “For the night. To resume in the morning. But if you send out a mastodon, I will follow it up. Me and Joe, we have snowcats and supplies, okay?”

“Thanks,” Matt said. It was all he got out before the phone died. 

Eventually, they reached a small clearing and there stood a sweet little cabin with dollops of sugary snow twinkling on the roof. “That’s the most beautiful thing I ever saw,” Gabe said. 

Matt grinned. “I dunno. I’ve seen you look better,” he teased. “At least on a good hair day.”

As they dropped down from the back of the mastodon, it began moving back off into the trees. “Shouldn’t we build a fire for it or something?” Gabe asked. 

Matt shook his head. “Naw, they’re built for this stuff.” They walked, somewhat stiffly, up to the cabin door and knocked. No one answered. It was full dark now, and cold, and the falling snow smothered all sound. Matt stamped his feet and rubbed his arms hard. “What now?” he huffed, watching his breath plume up. 

Gabe gave him a bright smile. He went and grabbed a block of wood from the pile on the porch. “We knock harder.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Matt said. “What happens if there are alarms?”

“Uh, then the police come and take us somewhere warm,” Gabe pointed out. He broke a window pane set in the front door and unlocked it. It was a bit cold inside, but there was a fireplace and, as they’d already established, firewood. And there was a landline, which made Matt’s heart skip. “Call the cops; let’s surrender,” Gabe suggested. “I have had enough of this life of crime and I’m ready to go straight.”

Matt laughed. “First I’ll call Patty. He’s worried sick.”

Patrick convinced Matt to let him call the cops and to take care of themselves first while he worked on things. Matt was quite happy to go along with this, and while Matt was on the phone, Gabe built a big fire in the fireplace. The lion stood in the doorway, watching, until Gabe told it, “In or out! I’m not paying to heat the whole neighborhood!” Then it slinked inside, its body low to the ground, its movements wary. 

It was a nice little cabin. There was no television, but the kitchen was well-stocked and Matt found a bottle of wine in one of the cupboards. He figured what the hell; he’d pay the owner back tenfold. 

Gabe was curled up on the couch, watching the fire like he was mesmerized. Matt watched him from the kitchen, feeling the warmth of the fire on Gabe’s face, relishing the peace Gabe was finally feeling. He had never felt Gabe feel this way. Since the first day they met, there had been an undercurrent of fear and uncertainty. Now he finally understood what it was to be one with your animal—to connect to the world itself and find peace ... to find the best part of himself. It made Matt feel snug and warm standing there and relishing a quiet moment, with Gabe’s self-loathing wiped away, finally able to understand and appreciate the deeply spiritual experience of connecting with an animal. Most people didn’t meet their Mate until long after they’d established an animal bond. Matt wondered how many other people had been given a chance like this one. To see Gabe—no, to _feel_ him like this was incredibly special. 

After a while, Gabe looked over at him sharply. “You okay?”

Matt wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, hard. “Yeah,” he said shortly. He came over and crawled onto the couch next to Gabe. “It’s just been a rough day.”

Gabe smiled and put an arm around his shoulders. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. How did you do it?” 

Leaning back against Gabe’s chest and sharing the bottle of wine, Matt explained his long day. 

“That is a lot to take in,” Gabe admitted when Matt finished up. “You bonded to the lion?”

“Yeah. I think that’s what she wanted all along. After I thought about it for a bit, I realized that apart from lunging toward me in the beginning, she really didn’t do anything that indicated she wanted to hurt me. I think she might have been defending us from the bison that attacked, and she only showed up when you were around if you tried to hurt me.” Matt sneaked a look at Gabe. “I think she might have been trying to protect me, realizing that you had absorbed some of her aggression—particularly toward mastodons.”

“I’m sorry, Dutchy,” Gabe told him.

Matt shook his head. “ _I’m_ the one who’s sorry,” he replied. “Things would have been okay from the very beginning if I’d trusted you. I went into the Quickening thinking you were too young and I just couldn’t let go of that. If I’d respected you I would have realized you could handle the lion—and I wouldn’t have got between you two and fucked the whole thing up. It was all my fault.”

Gabe gave him those big, sympathetic eyes—and then he grinned broadly. “Okay. I will only bring that up every time I want to win an argument with you for the rest of our lives,” he assured Matt. 

Matt laughed. “You’re such a dumbass,” he muttered. They grinned at each other, and Matt felt himself reddening and looked away. “You’re okay with the lion now?”

“Yeah. I think she’s all right.”

Matt huffed. “She helped me save your life. You oughta be grateful.” The lion looked up at them, knowing she was being discussed. “She’s a good girl. Yes, you are, you’re a good girl,” he cooed at her. 

With a grunt of effort, she got up, padded over to the couch—and climbed up next to Matt.

“Watch it! Hey! Hey, now, you’re not gonna fit up here,” he told her, laughing. It was funny how his fear had dissipated; she was a part of him now, too. 

She turned in a tight, uncomfortable circle and flopped out, partly on the arm of the couch, partly on the couch seat, and mostly on top of Matt. 

“OOF! You are _way too big to sit on my lap!_ ” he shouted. Between her big, solid body and Gabe’s big, solid body, he could barely breathe. 

Then the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” Gabe said, squirming out from under Matt, who in turn tried to squirm out from beneath the yawning lioness. He answered the phone and talked for a while, sounding upbeat. After he hung up he said, “That was Patty. He looked up the address of the cabin and tracked down the owners and they are just happy we’re okay. Which doesn’t mean he didn’t pay them off, of course, but they are certainly happy to let us crash here tonight. Also he says they will have someone pick us up when they get a road clear tomorrow. I told him no rush.”

Matt grinned. “He’s a good coach.”

“Finally got _you_ to pull your head out of your ass, anyway.”

Matt had to admit that was mostly true. Every time he made a mistake and Patrick didn’t scream at him he felt a little better about himself, and every time Patrick expressed confidence in him he became more amenable to the man’s suggestions, and when Patrick told him to trust his teammates and stop doing everything himself—well, he eventually came around. 

The lion heaved a sigh and Matt got up enough courage to reach over and pat her head. She seemed to like it when he scratched behind her ear, rubbing her face against his hand. The first few days after bonding with a spirit animal were usually very good ones, lots of feeling blissed out and one with the world. Matt was aware that he was unusually lucky to get to experience this twice.

But after a few minutes of chin scritches, the lion got up and jumped down from the couch, walking over to the door and sitting down like she was waiting for it to open. 

“Was it something I said?” Matt asked. 

Gabe let her out. “No, she’s just hungry. I think she’s gonna go do some hunting.”

“You could feel that?”

“Yeah. She . . . it feels good now,” Gabe admitted. “She’s a very cool cat right now, no more weird tension. I feel good.” 

Matt bit his lip. He shifted a little, looking down and avoiding Gabe’s eyes. “You wanna . . . uh, you wanna try and see if you’re, like . . . all better?” he asked hopefully. When Gabe didn’t answer right away Matt looked up to see him looking a little wide-eyed. “What?”

Gabe laughed. “I dunno, man. I’ve just never seen you blush and squirm like that. Holy shit, that’s really hot.” 

That, of course, only made Matt’s face heat up more. “Shut up,” he said. He could tell Gabe was getting turned on, because he was getting turned on, and it was turning Gabe on and that was echoing back straight into his pants and—wow, what an awesome thing it was, having a soulmate. “But, um. Do we have all the right . . . equipment?” he asked as Gabe came over and dropped down beside him, giving him an all-too-intent look of hunger. 

“Well, I maybe didn’t bring the jackhammer or the backhoe, but I think we’ll make do,” Gabe joked. He leaned over to kiss Matt’s neck and laughed. “You smell like a wet elephant.”

“You’ve got a good dose of Eau de Mastodon yourself,” Matt replied wryly. “Anyway, you know that’s not what I meant.”

Gabe sighed and shifted in his seat, digging into the back pocket of his jeans. He held up a condom. 

“Jesus Christ, you were basically acting like you were ready to fucking off yourself earlier, going up to the mountains to sever yourself from mother nature, and you _bring a fucking condom?_ ” Matt couldn’t help exclaiming. 

“Shut up, it’s not like that. I just always keep one or two around. It’s responsible,” Gabe told him haughtily. 

“What about the, uh, don’t we need other stuff?”

Gabe shrugged. “There’s oil in the cupboard. I checked. And this is non-latex, because I don’t like latex,” he said. “So we’re set.”

“Oh. Well. Good.”

Gabe looked amused. “Don’t worry. I know how to put Tab A into Slot B. My people invented Ikea.”

“Well then, I hope you came with all the right parts,” Matt retorted. He didn’t like thinking of himself as Slot B. “And that I won’t need a wrench or find any extra nuts or bolts, because in my experience, Ikea—”

Gabe interrupted him with a kiss. “All parts accounted for and fully functional,” he huffed. He kissed Matt again. “Anyway, maybe Sweden makes some shitty furniture but I promise you, we turn out some damn fine men.”

“I guess I can’t argue that. Bedroom?” Matt suggested. He knew it wasn’t strictly right, doing it in somebody else’s bed, but it wasn’t worse than doing it on their couch and anyway, he knew they weren’t going to be able to control themselves. 

Gabe went and got the oil, and Matt stood, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, heart thundering in his ears. 

Gabe smiled. “Don’t be so nervous,” he said, reaching out to hook a finger in Matt’s belt and tug him forward. Matt wrapped his arms around Gabe’s big shoulders and kissed the guy fiercely, like he’d wanted to when he found him in the snow. Thank God Gabe was okay. Thank God they were both okay. 

Matt ended up having to stumble backward into the dark bedroom, Gabe shoving him and groping him and kissing his neck. 

They fell onto the bed together in a jumble of arms and legs. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” Gabe gasped between kisses. “Overbalanced. Your leg okay?”

“Yeah. I gotta be careful with it, though,” Matt told him. “But I’m fine right now.” Gabe was pressing soft little kisses to his neck and cheek and earlobe. 

“Good,” he huffed in Matt’s ear. “Don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

Matt smiled. He dragged a hand through that glorious blond hair. “You never really wanted to hurt me, I know that,” he said. And it was good to know that—it was a relief to realize Gabe didn’t have any weird, sublimated anger toward him.

Gabe drew back and smiled at him, that crazy-good smile of his, his affection for Matt nearly palpable. “I really love you, Dutchy.”

For some reason that made Matt sort of bubble over with laughter. Matt knew it. It wasn’t as if Gabe could hide it, not from Matt. “I love you too, you goofball.”

Gabe kissed him hard, desperately, like he’d been wanting to do it for so long. Matt could feel his arousal surging, his prick aching for Matt, which in turn made Matt harder. They rocked against each other, seeking friction, humping each other’s legs. 

“Need you,” Gabe panted against Matt’s open mouth. 

Matt wrapped his arms around the man, hands savoring every twitch of muscle in Gabe’s back, satisfied that he’d finally be able to touch him as much as he wanted. His hands greedily explored Gabe’s body, sliding up under his shirt, stroking up and down. 

Gabe was basically doing his best to make love to Matt’s mouth, his tongue eager and slick and needy. Matt had wanted more of that for a long time, and the deep kisses nearly sent him over the edge. Finally he had to shove Gabe away.

“Sorry. I know it’s stupid but—it’s too much. I’ll—I’m almost about ready to—” Matt tried to explain, face burning. 

Gabe nodded hard in understanding. “It’s the bond. It amplifies everything.” He turned his attention to Matt’s belt, undoing it, sliding it free. Matt felt a thrill as it snaked loose from his body. Gabe began to pluck at his fly, unzipped his zipper. “Lift up, please.”

In any other circumstance, Matt would have found that ‘please’ hilarious, but he was too far gone. He just obeyed, lifting his hips and letting Gabe peel off his jeans and boxers. They got caught up around his shoes, so while he worked those off Gabe undressed himself, almost frantically. 

Matt stared at him. He saw him nearly every day—he ought to be used to it—but there was something wild and magnificent to have Gabe in front of him, totally naked and his, all his. He made a small sound and then Gabe was on top of him again, kissing him roughly, beard scratching. 

Gabe’s hands enthusiastically explored Matt’s body, fingertips kissing his abdomen, palms pressed to his ribs, reaching down to press against his erection, tentatively, until Matt moaned in encouragement. 

Matt’s hands did no small amount of body-worship as well, trembling across a deltoid here and a pectoral there and yes, please, grabbing a nice handful of gluteus maximus as Gabe chuckled, a lock of hair falling into his face. Matt relished every inch of skin, all Gabe, his Gabe, who he’d been dying to touch like this for more than a year, at first because of the bond, but more and more because he’d learned to like the idea.

Gabe pulled back to look at him fondly, but his smile grew waggish, curling at the corners, and his eyes smoldered as they raked over Matt’s nude body. “I want you,” he said in a husky voice. Keeping his eyes locked on Matt’s, he reached down to stroke Matt’s cock. 

Matt groaned, his head falling back. 

“Yes,” Gabe purred. “This is what I wanted for so long. Been wanting to make you feel _good._ Wanting to see you _like_ it.” He spread Matt’s legs wide, gently, careful with his bad knee, and knelt between them. 

“Oh, God,” was all Matt could say. Gabe began to suck him, watching him the whole time. “Oh, _God,_ ” Matt repeated as Gabe blew him. It was an experience he’d never even considered, and now he wondered why. It felt amazing, not just physically, but having Gabe Landeskog kneel for him, pleasure him, that alone was mind-blowing. 

Gabe got him so hard that he could barely think, writhing and begging for more. 

Then Gabe reached for the oil. Matt thought it would hurt, and it did feel odd and uncomfortable, but he could actually feel Gabe’s excitement building as he slid a finger into Matt’s body. He could feel the lust building in Gabe’s stomach as he thrust into him, feeling him from the inside. 

Whatever discomfort he might have felt was utterly obliterated by Gabe’s lust, his breath coming faster, his eyes dazed. Gabe pulled off his cock, giving it a last, loving lick. “I wanna fuck you so bad,” he blurted, and Matt wasn’t even embarrassed any more. He just nodded as hard as he could, unable to speak. Gabe pulled his body to the edge of the bed. “Think this’ll be easiest,” he panted. “Can’t do hands and knees—gotta be careful of your leg.” 

As Gabe entered him, it did hurt a little, and Gabe slowed, easing forward and watching Matt’s face. He was as gentle as he could be; Matt could tell that he was eager to show Matt that he was thoughtful and giving in bed, not the monster he’d been. “Gabe,” Matt breathed. 

Gabe smiled. “You feel so good, Dutchy,” he said. “I am gonna be nice, but I have to admit, I wish I could fuck you right through the fucking floor,” he said as he fondled Matt to full hardness again. 

Matt chuckled breathlessly. “Once my leg is good I am pretty much going to beg for that,” he said. 

Gabe began to fuck him harder, discovering how far he could go through the bond. 

Gabe planted both hands on Matt’s hips, holding him in place while he fucked him. Matt studied his face, red, but still handsome, his playoff beard making him look like a real man, not the kid Matt thought he saw at the Quickening. He was delicious, his mouth, his obscene cheekbones, his fierce blue eyes that seemed to smirk at Matt, enjoying the effect he was having. 

Matt reached up, caressing Gabe’s broad shoulders, digging his fingers into his skin, holding on tight as Gabe worked him over harder. “Oh, God, right there,” he moaned. Matt was riding on a high of emotions, Gabe’s lust, his lust, dizzying arousal and need and affection washing back and forth between the bond, carrying him higher and higher. He wrapped one leg around Gabe’s body, relishing every inch of his powerful build.

“Dutchy,” Gabe murmured. “You are so good.” 

Orgasm hit him hard and Matt’s eyes slammed shut. He might have moaned Gabe’s name, but he wasn’t sure. He opened his eyes a moment later and looked up at Gabe mistily, his face hot and sweaty, feeling vulnerable in a weirdly good way. Gabe reached out to touch his face and Matt grabbed his hand, kissed it, sucked a finger into his mouth. He watched Gabe shiver, his brow knotting as he climaxed. 

“Wow,” Gabe said when he could talk. 

Matt nodded, unable to catch his breath. “Uh-huh.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Gabe fell into Matt’s arms, sticky and hot and way too heavy to be comfortable. Matt just wrapped him up in a big hug, relishing the fact that he could do that, now, and not risk Gabe losing it. He kissed Gabe’s messy hair and Gabe chuckled against his chest. 

“You did good today, Matt,” Gabe told him. Matt couldn’t tell if he was using his captain voice or not. “You were amazing, figuring everything out and coming up to save me like that. And the lion. You bonded to a lion, Matt. You gotta have a lot of inner strength, to manage a lion.”

Matt smiled. He hadn’t thought about it that way. He wanted to talk about the bonding ceremony, but before he could broach the subject, he was fast asleep.

oOoOoOo

When Matt woke up late the next morning, stiff and sore all over (probably more from the exertion and mastodon riding than the Gabe-riding, but he wouldn’t swear to it) he discovered he was draped half across Gabe’s chest. He watched Gabe snoozing peacefully, his breaths deep and even, his face clear, no hint of the tribulations of the past year. It was so nice to see him like this, content and at ease.

Then Matt rolled over and got a terrible shock. The bed was absolutely covered in lions! He must have jolted badly enough to wake his Mate, who sat up with a yawn. “You okay?” he asked in response to Matt’s distress. 

Matt gulped. There were three half-grown lions lounging across the bed, completely uninterested in his quiet terror. Gabe’s lioness sat on the floor beside the bed, looking regal. He knew it was common for more than one spirit animal to commune with a person after a Quickening, but he hadn’t expected to wake up to a bed blanketed with lions. “Where did they come from?” he wondered. 

“I think they’re Jua Kali’s,” Gabe said. 

Matt blinked at him. “Jua Kali?”

Gabe looked a little sheepish. “That’s what I decided to name her.” He looked down at the bedspread, now mostly big cat, and added, “It’s Swahili for “ _fierce sun,_ ” and I thought it fit her pretty good.”

Matt broke out into a grin and thumped him on the shoulder with affection. “I like it,” he said. “I really do.” He looked down at the lions, one of whom was playfully nipping at a sibling’s twitching tail. It was obvious that Gabe could sense things about the lion—about Jua Kali—much more strongly than Matt did, but Matt wasn’t jealous. “Hey, can you feel Tuesday at all? Or any of my mastodons?”

“Sort of,” Gabe said. “It’s like a voice in another room. Just a muffled voice and I can’t tell what it’s saying. But it’s very serene. They have a lot of dignity about them, I can feel that.”

Matt smiled. “Yeah. They do.” 

Gabe got out of bed. “Okay you guys, shoo. The owners of this cabin are going to have _fits _.” Matt still felt a twitch of nervousness at this, but the languid creatures poured out of bed and strutted away without complaint. “Don’t worry. I’ve got control now. I can get them to do _anything,_ ” Gabe promised. __

__The lioness squeezed her eyes at Matt as if saying, ‘ _Almost_ anything.’ _ _

__Matt looked at Gabe. “Shouldn’t we tell Patty we want to do the ceremony?” he asked, suddenly remembering the fading of the mark. Shit, he didn’t want to come all this way only to lose it._ _

__Gabe just stared at him, his eyes wide. “You mean you really want to? You’re certain?”_ _

__Matt nodded. “As soon as possible,” he replied. Gabe grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him roughly. Matt broke off, laughing._ _

__“I need to call my parents!” Gabe exclaimed, but then he looked uncertain. “Are you going to tell your parents?”_ _

__Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “I sort of already did. That is, I told everyone we were bonded, but explained I wasn’t comfortable sharing that publically yet and that I’d tell them when we were ready for a ceremony.”_ _

__Gabe’s face lit up. “When did you do that?”_ _

__Matt gave a quasi-shrug. “At the Olympics. I just figured they’d have too much else to think about to treat me differently. But they were really good about it. I built it up too much in my head—the way I tend to do.”_ _

__“I wish you told me,” Gabe said hoarsely. “I thought . . . you were ashamed of me.”_ _

__Matt blinked. “Heck, no. Weirded out, maybe, but not because of you. Just . . . the guy thing. It took me a while to adjust, because I never felt like that before. But I mean, apart from the trouble with the lion, I was always real proud to be with _you._ You’re . . . well, I’m proud you’re my Mate.”_ _

__Gabe grinned. “Me, too. You know . . . I thought about everything for a long time last night, and you know what I realized?”_ _

__“What’s that?”_ _

__“I think everything happened the way it was supposed to. Like it was, I don’t know, destiny or something.”_ _

__Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. I was destined to jump between a dude and his spirit lion, majorly fuck everything up, you were destined to bite me repeatedly, and basically we were destined to be miserable for more than a year until I got my head out of my ass and stopped being such a control freak and actually asked for help. Some destiny.”_ _

__Gabe looked very somber. “Matt, supposing we knew then what we know now? What could we really change?”_ _

__“Well, I wouldn’t have put myself between you and a lion, for starters.”_ _

__“So? Say you did that and we bonded. You’d have hated it. You didn’t even like me at first.”_ _

__Matt sighed, exasperated. “I liked you just fine. I just . . . needed time, that’s all.”_ _

__“And the lion thing gave you time. Because otherwise, you would have said no. You would have freaked out and said no guys and you would have let the bond die. Don’t lie, Dutchy,” Gabe said._ _

__“I don’t know. I guess I was pretty weirded out at first and it did take time and . . .” Matt thought about Barrie and Pauly and even Segs and the Benns, and how they all accepted it—and how far that went in making him feel like it was maybe okay to want to be with Gabe. “It took time and convincing, yeah, I guess that’s true.”_ _

__“And anyway, I’m not convinced you wouldn’t have stepped in front of the lion, even if you knew then what you know now,” Gabe added. He looked very earnest. “You didn’t think, ‘Hey, Gabe might be in some kind of danger. I will place myself between him and the danger, and save him.’ You acted on instinct, Dutchy. Do you think there’s ever a way you would have been there and would be able to _stop_ yourself from doing it?”_ _

__Matt thought this over uneasily. “I . . . I dunno. I like to think I’d have more sense than that.” But at the same time, it really _was_ like driving a car and flinging an arm out when you slammed on the brakes. You didn’t think about it. He remembered patiently telling his mom that when he was a kid—‘You don’t have to do that! I won’t go through the windshield!’ and she would always say, ‘I can’t help it!’ _ _

__“And Dutchy,” Gabe continued, “you couldn’t have handled it.”_ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__“I mean there’s no way you wouldn’t get between us—but the Matt at my Quickening couldn’t have handled the lion. The Matt back then didn’t have that inner strength. The bond wouldn’t have worked.”_ _

__And the lion would have killed him, a year and a half ago. Because Matt just wouldn’t have been able to control the lion._ _

__Matt swallowed hard. It was a lot to think about. Gabe was probably right; they’d come a long way. _He’d_ come a long way. And everything he’d been through had broken him down and then built him up into a better man. Yeah. Because _this_ Matty Duchene could handle the lion. He smiled at Gabe. He didn’t have to say it. Gabe knew. _ _

__Gabe grinned back. “So. You want some breakfast?”_ _

__“I feel bad enough about drinking these people’s wine and fucking in their bed,” Matt said. He made to get out of bed too, but he hurt way more than he expected. “Oh, ouch,” he said, bending over to rest his elbows on the bed. “Okay, my ribs are not happy today.”_ _

__Gabe was too happy to be sympathetic. “Eh, I think you’ll live,” he replied, smacking Matt on the ass, hard._ _

__Jua Kali promptly snarled at Gabe._ _

__“Whoa,” he said. “Sorry, Mom.” The lion settled right down once she realized he wasn’t serious. “Lions. They are a bit overprotective,” he told Matt. He kissed Matt again, on the shoulder this time, then ran off to call Patrick and tell him to bring a preacher or something, and hurry. The lion followed him._ _

__Matt did some stretches, feeling better by the moment. He spent a little while meditating on his mastodons and reaching out to them for physical strength, feeling better and better. He was bent nearly double when Gabe returned._ _

__“Oh, _hey,_ ” he purred. “Sexy pose.”_ _

__“Where’s Jua Kali?” Matt asked._ _

__“Giving us privacy,” Gabe said. The way he was staring intently at Matt’s ass was making the heat build in Matt’s stomach. “She went to the door and just sauntered away, vanishing into the snow. But she’ll be around if we need her.”_ _

__“Yeah.” Matt crawled back into bed, flopping down on the soft quilt and looking up at Gabe. “So what’s the verdict?”_ _

__“Patrick’s scrambling to find someone, and they should be up here within the hour.” He came and sat down on the bed, arching a brow. “So I suggest we have fun while we still can.”_ _

__Matt laughed. “Oh, my God, are you all hot and bothered again already?” He didn’t really need to ask; he knew. And he was quickly starting to feel frisky himself, with Gabe sitting there, licking his lips, his chest bare. Matt’s heart skipped a beat and he could feel Gabe’s do the same._ _

__Gabe reached out and took Matt’s hand, nuzzling his cheek against it and making a rolling ‘r’ in a simulation of a purr. Matt looked at him affectionately. This was how it was supposed to be from the very beginning—him and Gabe, his Mate, playing off each other, in harmony, making each other stronger. Things were going to be okay. He wouldn’t get to do the sealing of the bond in front of his family, but maybe he could call them up, have them on the phone at least. And he’d have Joe and Patrick in attendance, and that was pretty special. And then he and Gabe could concentrate on the future—and on hockey. Maybe next year they’d really have a chance, now that they were finally in sync and at ease. Just thinking about it made him want to get back on the ice as soon as possible. “You know what?” he said softly, petting Gabe’s face. Gabe just looked at him, eyebrows raised in a question. Matt smiled. “It was a long road getting here, but I think it was worth it.”_ _

__“We will have to pick out bracelets,” Gabe told him. “What kind do you want? We could do leather, or platinum or something, very stylish.” Wedding bracelets were always as individual as the people who wore them._ _

__Matt smiled and reached up to trace Gabe’s smile with a fingertip. “You choose,” he said. “Anything you want.”_ _

__Gabe looked delighted. “Gold?” he said almost shyly. “Classic and simple?”_ _

__Matt would happily give him gold. Hell, he’d melt down his own Olympic medal and make a band if that’s what Gabe wanted. “Gold it is,” he said._ _

__“You want any special design or inscription or anything?” Gabe asked, then kissed Matt’s fingertips, which still lingered against his skin, unwilling to break contact for even a moment._ _

__Matt felt a slow smile steal over his face, and he arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, as a matter of fact. I want mine to say, ‘ _Gabriel Ingemar John Landeskog_ ’ all the fucking way around it, in the biggest type they can make.” That way everyone would know, always. And when the shit hit the fan from the going Feral incident, everyone would see that Matt thought it was totally worth it. _ _

__For a moment Gabe looked really surprised, and then his big blue eyes got kind of teary. “We can do that,” he said in a husky voice._ _

__Matt laughed and reached up to caress Gabe’s face, hungry for every inch of skin. He let his hands slide down, relishing Gabe’s throat and shoulders and chest and stomach and—_ _

__Gabe gave him a wolfish—or perhaps lionish would be the correct word—grin. “You know, Dutchy, that in the wild when a new lion takes over a pride, he and a female will mate every fifteen minutes for up to full five days.”_ _

__Matt did some quick math in his head and laughed giddily. “Yeah? And you think you could do that too, huh, Romeo?” He didn’t think he could do it, but the influence of the bond—the honeymoon period—might just make it possible._ _

__Gabe prowled over the bedspread to straddle him. “Let’s find out,” he growled, sending a spike of pleasure rippling up the skin on Matt’s back._ _

__Matt looked up at him and smirked. “Yeah? Well,” he told Gabe, “All I can say is: thank God it’s the offseason.”_ _


End file.
